#“heres a place go dress up and drink”

[leclerc-hs]

romantic chocolates - cs55

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend take aphrodisiac chocolates at the same party OR you and carlos fuck after not seeing each other for months warnings: smut smut smut!!! spit kink, language, ex-boyfriend!!!, slight jealousy, p in v, unprotected! NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos and might not make sense), angst, hot hot hot word count: 2.8k author's note: hi hi! so sorry this is late and hope y'all still like this!!! I was gonna make it longer but my brain has been a little fried from all the writing I've been doing so sorry if you think this is trash. TRIED MY BEST xoxo

ln4 cl16 mv1 op81 cs55

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You swore you’d never see him again.

Not at this party, not in this city. Especially not after what he did. You hadn’t seen Carlos Sainz in nearly seven months. Not since he ended things in the most heartless way imaginable. A half-shrug and the words this isn’t working anymore.

No softness. No chance to ask why. Just a door shutting behind him as he left.

So seeing him now. Casual, jaw sharp, in a white shirt with the top two unbuttons done and a amber liquid in a short glass in his hand…is enough to make your stomach cave in.

You were doing fine. Laughing, sipping your drinks. Picking at chocolate from one of those ridiculous little tray’s one of the host’s friends handed you. 

“Supposed to be spiked,” She said. “Like, aphrodisiac spiked.”

And you laughed. Popped one in your mouth. Moved on.

Forgot about it. 

Until now.

He’s leaning against the bar, sleeves rolled up, in conversation with someone. 

Your heart lurches.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. You even checked. Avoided his circles and favorite places like the plague. Blocked his number, deleted his socials. Haven’t even said his name in months.

Not since he left you shaking in a hallway with mascara running down your face.

You’re careful not to look in his direction again.

Not toward the bar. Not to his tanned forearms. Not to the curve of his throat.

You don’t even know who he’s talking to…and you won’t give yourself the chance to find out either.

Instead, you disappear into another group of people. Let someone refill your drink. Let someone else laugh into your ear. 

And suddenly everything starts to feel a little too sharp. Your dress clinging to your skin in places it didn’t before. And the insides of your thigh’s feel damp.

Your stomach tenses and suddenly you can’t stop thinking about the fucking chocolate. The stupid little square. The way it melted so easily on your tongue. Tasted good too.

And your nipples are hard beneath your dress. Can feel the ache low in your belly. 

So you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Walk into a darkly lit hallway. It’s pretty quiet except for the hum of music behind the wall.

You turn the corner. Not watching where you’re going. Just trying to breathe. Cool off.

And then you collide with him.

Hard chest. Solid. Familiar scent. And that body. The body you used to know with your eyes shut.

You breathe in sharply. 

And your hands press into his chest before you can stop yourself. Trying to brace for a fall.

His hand shoots out quick, steadying you. Fingers hot against the strip of skin at your side. And you jolt.

He’s already looking at you.

Like he knew this would happen. Like he was waiting for it.

“Careful, cariño,” his voice is smooth. Low. Thick with something you don’t want to acknowledge. “Didn’t see you there.”

You step back quickly. Almost stumbling away from him.

“Jesus,” you snap. “What the fuck are you…”

“Walking,” he shrugs his shoulders. Cocking his head. “Relax.”

You straighten. Glare at him. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Didn’t know this was your party.” He grins.

“It’s not,” you cross your arms along your chest.

“Then I guess I’m allowed to be here,” His voice low. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You glare. But the heat building between your legs makes it hard to hold your ground. Your skin is fucking burning. Pulse pounding.

And he’s close. Too fucking close.

You hate him. You hate how he left. You hate the fucking smirk on his face. You hate that’s he’s the only person who’s ever made you come so hard that you couldn’t speak for minutes after.

And he’s looking at you with those dark eyes like he knows. Like he can see the flush in your cheeks. The tremble in your hands.

“You’re flushed,” He mutters.

You roll your eyes. “So? It’s warm in here.”

“Mmm.” His gaze flicks down, lingers at your stomach. “I’d believe that…y’know?…If I didn’t see you eat one of those chocolates earlier.”

Your stomach twists.

“What?”

You try to take a step back, but he follows. Lazily. Easily. Cutting off your exit without even lifting a hand.

“Tell me,” he mutters. “How long have you been feeling it?”

His voice is low. Slow. The kind of tone he used to use when his hand was already slipped in between your legs.

“Fuck off, Carlos.”

“You’re already fucking yourself in your head,” He says. Taunting.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re flushed.”

His gaze drags over you. From your eyes, down to your mouth, pausing for a few moments, then down to your chest.

“Just look at you,” He says. “So fidgety. Breathing as if I’ve got my fingers shoved up in you already.”

You want to slap him. But you don’t. Every word lands directly between your fucking legs.

“You always got like this whenever I touched you. So fucking easy.” He laughs. “One hand on your throat and you’d fuckin’ melt for me, yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming.

“You used to beg me to talk like this…remember?”

Your knees are weak.

“Used to get so fuckin’ dumb for me.” He whispers. “All I had to do was say a few things and you’d be soaking.”

Your stomach clenches and you breathe hard. Trying to swallow the whimper in your throat. But he see’s it. Of course he does.

“Still like that, huh?” He grins. “You’re squirming, baby.”

“Carlos…”

“No. Don’t say my name like that.” His voice is sharp. “Not unless you’re gonna say it while you’re moaning and begging again.”

You take a step back. But he follows. Again. Cruelly. Like he’s savoring the way you’re falling apart. Slowly.

“Used to talk to you like this while I fucked you from behind, yeah?” His lips hover by your ear. “One hand in your hair. One on your hip. And I’d say the filthiest shit…just to feel your pussy clench around my cock.”

Your fingers curl into the wall behind you.

“I’d tell you how tight you were. How fuckin’ wet. How you were made for me.”

You clench your jaw. Body fuckin’ buzzing.

He brushes a hand near your jaw. Hovering. Not touching.

“Bet if I put two fingers in you, you’d come instantly.”

Your thighs are pressed so tightly together it hurts. But you don’t move. 

“I hate you.”

“No.” He grunts. “You hate that no one else can get you off the way I can.”

You flinch.

“Want me to remind you how good you were?” His voice is dark. “How you used to ride my fingers like a good fucking slut while I spat in your mouth?”

Your legs nearly give out.

“Still got that pretty moan?” He breathes.

“Fuck you.” You shove him back. Hard.

He doesn’t expect it, and stumbles back. Catches himself quick.

And you adjust your dress. Lift your chin.

“You haven’t changed.” You say, voice full of disgust.

You push past him. Don’t even look over your shoulder as you say, “I’ll go find someone else. Someone who isn’t a fucking coward.”

And that’s when you hear the scrape of his shoe against the floor.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You feel it before you turn. Him storming up to you. Something unhinged in his presence.

You turn your head. And his face? 

Grin gone. He looks furious.

“Y’think I’m gonna let you walk out there and let someone else fuck you?” He grunts. “Let some idiot put his hands on you?”

You blink. “I’m not yours.”

“The fuck you’re not.”

And he’s in front of you again. Shoulders tense. Chest heaving.

“Y’think I didn’t see it? The way your thighs were rubbing together like you couldn’t stand a single second without my cock shoved up there?”

He steps closer. “You can pretend all you want. But you walk out there, and I swear to fuckin’ God…”

He stops. Fists clenched.

“You want someone else? Go ahead.” His voice is sharp. “Let them try to fuck you the way I did.”

You swallow.

“Let them try to make you come with nothing but their hand around your throat and two fingers buried in that needy cunt.”

And you see it.

The edge in his eyes. The small flush in his cheeks. Chest rising. Vein in his neck.

You narrow your eyes.

“You took one too.”

And he laughs. Shaky.

“Yeah.” His voice low. “Didn’t think much of it, til I saw you…and now I can’t fucking breathe.”

His hands are clenched.

“Been hard for an hour,” He groans. “Every time I close my eyes I picture you on your knees.”

He laughs again. Bitter. 

“I’m gonna say this once,” His voice cracks. Feral. “No one else gets to touch you.”

You glare. “You don’t get to say that. You left..”

“I know,” He cuts you off. Snapping. “I know I did. And I fucking hate myself for it.”

His forehead drops to yours. Body trembling.

“But I swear…I swear if anyone else touches you tonight…if anyone gets to learn how fucking wet you are..”

He groans. Like he’s in pain.

“I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

And his hips roll toward you once. And it sends a zap of heat straight to your core.

His cock is fucking hard. Straining. Throbbing.

“Fuck,” He mutters. “Y’feel that? Feel what you do to me?”

Your hands find his chest, but not to pull him away. Just to feel him. His heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” His voice is wrecked. “Haven’t. Even when I tried to fuck someone else…I’d have to close my eyes and picture it was your cunt squeezing me.”

You whimper. Lips trembling.

“Yeah,” He groans. “That sound. Fuck..that’s the one.”

You don’t even have time to process it before he’s pulling you down the hall. Shoulders tense. And you stumble to keep up. Until he shoulders a door open and yanks you in after him.

A bathroom.

He kicks open the first stall. Slams it shut behind you both. 

Locks it.

And then his hands are on you.

And his mouth crashes into yours. Hot. Hungry. Teeth scraping your bottom lip like he wants to bite it. You gasp into him, and he groans like the sound alone might make him come.

“You still hate me?” He mutters against your mouth, dragging your dress up. Bunching the fabric.

“I do,” you whisper. “I fucking do.”

“So why the fuck are you this wet for me?” He cups you through the thin fabric of your panties. “Hm? Why’s your pussy begging for me if you hate me so much?”

You whimper. Grind against his hand. And all hell breaks loose.

“Fuck this.” He yanks your panties to the side.

Fingers slip through your folds and he outright groans. Loud. Like you’re ruining him.

“You need me this bad, baby?”

You nod. Desperate. Delirious.

“Say it.”

You hesitate.

He presses two fingers against your clit. Rubbing slow circles. Mean. 

“Carlos…”

“Say you need me.”

You’re breathless. “I need you.”

And that’s all it takes.

He’s undoing his pants, dragging them low enough to free his cock. Thick. Flushed. Leaking. Perfect. 

“I’m not gonna last,” he admits. Voice wrecked. “You feel too good. Look too pretty. M’gonna fuckin’ lose it.”

He grabs your thigh, hooks it over his hip.

And pushes in. All the way.

You cry out. Nails digging into his back as your pussy clenches down on him. 

He chokes on a gasp, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck…still so fuckin tight.” 

He doesn’t move. Breathing hard against your skin.

“No one else gets this. No one.” His voice is harsh. “Y’understand me? Say it.”

He starts moving. “Say it while I fuck you.”

And he slams back in. Hard.

“Yours,” you cry out. “I’m yours.”

And that’s all he needs.

Then he’s fucking you hard. Relentless. The stall doors shaking with each thrust. 

“Dirty fuckin’ whore.” He pants. “This pussy missed me, hm?”

His hands slip between your bodies, rubbing your clit.

“C���mon make it quick.” He mutters. “Cunt is choking my cock. Know you’re there.”

And you do. 

Your entire body snaps, clenching as you cry out his name. He grunts.

Groans, loud as he spills inside of you.

“Fuck, baby…” His neck is flushed. “Take it all.”

He’s still inside you. Still hard. When he presses a kiss to your throat.

“I need more.”

You nod without thinking. And you’re barely breathing before he slides out of you. Pulls up his pants. 

Grabs your wrist. 

Pulls you out of the stall. His come leaking down your thighs.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, just drags you down the hallway. His grip on you is strong. 

He finds the first empty door. Shoves it open. Slams it shut.

And the second you turn to face him, he’s on you.

Hands in your hair. Mouth on yours. Kissing you like it hurts. Dress ripped off in one swipe. Pants unbuttoned and shoved down. Shirt stripped off.

He walks you backwards until your knees hit something.

A mattress.

And then he shoves you down. Climbs over you. Dragging you to the edge of the bed like he owns you.

“Never should’ve let you go.” 

And he slams back into you.

You both moan.

“Still so perfect.” 

His hips move. Slow. Filthy.

He drops his head to your chest. Hips slamming into you harder. Losing control. 

“I’ve thought about this every fucking night.” He breathes. “My cock inside you. You coming all over me. Every single fucking night.”

You arch into him. And he snaps.

Slams into you. Again and again.

“You blocked me,” He grunts. Pushing in deeper. “Everywhere.”

He’s holding your wrists down on the bed, hips grinding into you.

“I fuckin’ tried, y’know that?” His voice is harsh. “Open.”

You do.

And he spits right onto your tongue. You moan. Shaky. Breathless.

“Swallow it.”

And you do. Instantly.

“I called. Texted. Showed up. And you just disappeared on me.”

His voice rough. Cracking. Eyes locked on you.

“Blocked me on every fucking thing,” he fucks you harder. “And now?”

He leans in closer. “Now you’re letting me back in with this pussy before you even let me apologize…before I even explain myself.”

You whimper. And he laughs. Mean.

“So fuckin’ easy.”

He splits you wide open, cock driving into you.

“Dios mío,” He breathe against your skin, voice cracking. “This fuckin’ body…” His hands slide against your skin. Possessive. 

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me.” He grunts. Voice hoarse. “And I ruined it. I know that I did.”

His hand slips down to rub your clit. Eyes never leaving yours.

“Mi puta,” He whispers into your ear. “Mía.”

“Come again,” he whispers. “One more time. Wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me and tell me you still want me.”

And when you do….

He follows.

“Fuck…fuck, I fucking love you.”

You’re not sure how long you stay like this.

Chest pressed against you. Legs tangled. Cock still buried in you.

Twitching like he doesn’t want to let you go.

And then he’s moving again. Slow. Deep. Mean. Hand tangled in your hair, holding your head against the mattress as you arch.

And then he spits into your mouth again.

“Swallow it, mi amor. Like a good girl.”

You do.

“Buena chica,” He grunts. “Always were. Always knew how to take it.”

And then he’s pushing your thighs up to your chest, slamming into you harder.

And you scream. 

“You still hate me?” He asks. Voice ruined.

You look at him. Eyes glassy. Breathless.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

And his hips slow. But he still hits you deep.

“No mientas,” He exhales. “Don’t lie.”

Your nails dig into his back. “I hate how much I missed this. Missed you.”

And he groans.

“Say you’re mine.”

“Soy tuya.” You breathe.

And then his mouth is on yours. Claiming.

And his hand circles your clit.

“Hazlo,” He hisses against your lips. “Come for me. Again. Vamos, mi amor.”

And you do. Gasping his name.

And he falls apart with you. Spilling inside you again.

And this time he collapses onto you. Slipping out.

His come leaking onto the sheets below you.

“I was scared,” He breathes. “Didn’t deserve you. Still don’t.”

You blink. Dazed.

“Didn’t even let me say sorry.”

You exhale. “You didn’t fucking try.”

He goes still. 

His eyes search yours. “What do I do now?”

You don’t answer. 

Just brush your fingers against the back of his neck. And you feel the way he shudders.

Just holding each other.

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[bitters-n-sweets]

she's a menace — jack abbot x fem!reader While celebrating a coworker's birthday at a bar, Jack Abbot gets distracted watching his girlfriend dancing and turning heads.

warnings: suggestive content (minors go away), spicy, we love a supportive king (jack) masterlist

It's girls' night.

Meaning your dress is too short, and your heels are too high—but you feel amazing. You and your girls had pre-gamed at a bar earlier, and now on your way to the 2nd bar.

You needed this. A night to let go. A night to dance and drink overpriced cocktails and scream-laugh in a bathroom stall with your friends over absolutely nothing.

The bar is crowded, pulsing with music and low light, and when you spot the familiar silhouette at the other end, your heart does a small, surprised flip.

Jack.

He’s here. At this bar. Of all nights.

He hasn't spotted you yet, but you can see he's having a great time with his co-workers. Langdon is there, Collins too, and for once Robby is laughing without a care in the world. You want to say hi, but your friends are already dragging you to the dance floor. Besides, you're curious what he’ll do when he finally notices you.

But Jack’s already noticed.

He’s been stealing glances since you walked in, pretending not to look too long as you twirl and laugh under the flashing lights. Your dress clings in all the right places, dipping perfectly to show your cleavage, hugging every line of your body like it was stitched for sin.

Jack’s heart stutters.

The way you move isn’t for anyone in particular, but it damn well feels like a siren call—slow, confident, sensual. The dress rides up slightly as you spin, and your thigh peeks out just enough to make his breath catch.

If it weren't for Langdon calling for his attention, he would've jumped you by now.

"Yo Abbot— Damn," he whistles, "Someone’s out to kill tonight."

"You're tellin' me." Jack mutters, a proud yet hungry smile etched across his lips, "My girl knows how to put on a show, alright."

"Wait, that's your girl??" Langdon follows his gaze.

Jack nods once.

"I don't believe it." Javadi says.

"And you let her dress like that when you’re not around?"

Jack’s expression doesn’t change. "I don’t let her do anything. She can dress however she wants."

Langdon raises a brow. "Alright, modern man."

Jack sets down his glass and says calmly with a smirk, "Besides, she knows who she belongs to."

The table goes in waves of "oooh"s and whistles for half a second before someone murmurs, "Damn, okay," and they all take another shot.

Back on your side of the bar, you’re oblivious to the murmurs about you, caught up in the music and the high of the night. You wander to the bar for another drink, separated from your group for just a moment, when an uninvited man decides to make his move on you.

A guy—tall, clearly drunk, and way too confident. "Hey, beautiful," he slurs. "You look like you could use some company."

"No thanks." You say curtly.

He laughs and leans in closer anyway, eyes dropping to your dress. "You whores always try to play hard to get..."

Then his hand reaches out—fingers grazing your lower back.

He doesn’t get far.

A hand closes around his wrist, firm and alert.

"Hey, buddy—" the guy starts to protest, turning slightly, only to find himself face-to-face with your lover.

"You should walk away." Jack says with the kind of presence that makes everything in the room feel suddenly still.

The guy scoffs. "And who the fuck are you, old man?"

"I'm her man." Jack says proudly.

The guy lets out a sharp laugh. "You??"

Jack tilts his head, smile slow and cool. "Yeah. Me."

He steps in like he’s trying to size Jack up. "Why don't you go play hero somewhere else?"

"Last chance." Jack exhales once. "Back away."

Instead of listening, the guy sneers and reaches to you again—like he’s about to brush against your hip.

That’s when Jack moves.

He grabs the guy’s wrist mid-motion and twists. Not enough to do damage. Just enough to send pain shooting through the idiot’s arm.

The guy chokes out a curse, dropping back, eyes wide now.

Jack leans in slightly, stares at him like looks could kill. "You don’t want to find out what I’d do next. Now walk away."

And this time, he does. Muttering while rubbing his wrist, vanishing into the crowd.

"Hi, hero."

"Hey, trouble." He smirks, hands draping around your waist, making sure he covers the area that asshole tried to touch you. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum. "That was kinda hot."

Jack chuckles, "Oh, honey, you're drunk."

"Yes I am," You confirm. "So what are you doing here, handsome?"

"Donnie's birthday," Jack explains, "we're celebrating. Wanna come say hi?"

"Of course." You smile.

As you approach the table, conversation dips for a beat before Santos lets out a low whistle. "No way. This is your girl, Abbot?"

Jack doesn't answer, just gently pulls you closer and kisses you to make a point. His hand settles just above the curve of your ass, thumb brushing slow circles while you lean into him.

Langdon raises his brows. "My mind is blown right now. How'd you convince her to put up with you?"

"He didn't," you say sweetly, crossing one leg over the other. "I just like a man who can handle power tools, bruised ribs… and knows exactly what he’s doing in bed."

Jack nearly chokes on his drink, and the group erupts with laughter and a few scandalized woo-hoos. He clears his throat, glancing at you with a half-smirk. “Remind me to keep you away from tequila.”

You say goodbye to Jack's coworkers and your friends—they all had their jaws on the floor when they finally saw Jack in the flesh. With screams of "you go get it girl" and "someone's gettin' some tonight" following you out, you finally leave the bar, ears flushed, heart hammering in your chest.

You take a deep breath, finally breathing cool, fresh air. Jack's given you his jacket, like the gentleman he is, and now you're walking home, hand in hand.

"You okay walking? Want me to carry you?" Jack asks, glancing sideways.

You shake your head. "Need to walk off the alcohol anyway."

He hums, "So how was your night?"

"Fun!" you say brightly, then wrinkle your nose, "Until that asshole tried touching me. Ugh."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Jack says, kissing your hand.

"It's okay, you were there to save me. And you made it all okay." You smile, draping his arm around your shoulders. "Though maybe it’s the dress. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this."

"No, no, we're not gonna do that." Jack stops walking. "You said no, and he didn't listen, he's an ass, and karma will get him one day."

You hum, though Jack can tell you're still not convinced.

Jack turns to you and gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing along your jaw. "Sweetheart. You can dress any way you like. You look stunning tonight. You always do."

You smile softly. "Okay."

His mouth curls into that slow, grinch-like smirk you know too well. "Besides... I love being the one to take off those clothes once you're done showing off."

Your gasp, then narrow your eyes playfully. "Is that a threat, Dr. Abbot?"

"Oh, baby," he says, sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, "That’s a promise."

----

a/n: kill me now || side note I have like 5 drafts all wip about this man, so help me god

[universefcb]

can u do a lando x reader where she gets along well this his family and he cant help admire her and think about marriage and stuff like that. thank youu <3

WHAT IF IT WAS 4EVER?,LANDO NORRIS.

→ Summary: You went to spend a lazy Sunday at his parents' house with his family.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: Please make me more requests from him! I love writing about him.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The Norris house smelled of lavender, fresh coffee, and baking banana bread. It was one of those lazy, overcast Sundays when everyone wore sweatshirts and spoke softly so as not to break the spell of comfortable silence.

Lando sat on the edge of the kitchen table, his long legs stretched out in front of him, watching a scene that had been repeating itself for a few weeks, but it seemed like the kind of routine he wanted to have forever.

She.

In the kitchen with her mother, laughing easily as she cut fruit, grabbed too many cups at once, and stole spoonfuls of raw cake batter. She got along so well with everyone—as if she had grown up there, as if she already knew the exact places for the cutlery, the favorite smell of his sister's tea, his father's silly jokes.

“Do you think she’ll accept?” Flo’s quiet voice brought him back to reality. She was standing next to him, drinking a cappuccino.

“Accept what?”

“You.” Flo raised an eyebrow. “With that silly look on your face, you’re going to propose to her tomorrow.”

Lando let out a muffled laugh, but inside… she was right.

He looked again.

She wasn’t just beautiful. She was warm, she was light. She was “stay in bed for five more minutes”; she was the kind of hug that could calm any storm. She had a way of smiling that made people stop talking just to keep looking.

And the scariest thing?

She liked his family. She really did. It wasn't an effort, it wasn't out of politeness. It was genuine.

When his mother mentioned the old dress from her youth, she asked to see it. When his father mentioned old cars, she asked. When Cisca teased Lando, she laughed knowingly. Everything with her was natural. Nothing forced.

Later, when lunch was over and everyone was sprawled on the couch with dessert plates on their laps, she laid her head on Lando's shoulder and began to play with his fingers.

“Your family is wonderful,” she said softly, so that only he could hear.

Lando swallowed hard. His heart was beating faster than on a starting grid.

“You are wonderful,” he replied.

She smiled against his skin. But then she straightened up, sitting back down.

“You seem strange. Are you okay?”

“Okay.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m just… trying to figure out how I ended up here. On this couch. With you. Feeling like… this is it.”

“What is this?”

He looked into her eyes, and even though he was afraid of appearing too intense, he didn't hold back.

“That’s it. Me, you, my family. The sound of the rain outside. You making tea for my mother, playing with my sister. Me wanting time to stop. That’s it.”

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. But she took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I feel it too. And if it comforts you, it also scares you a little.”

Lando smiled, a shy smile, different from the ones he gave to photographers or on podiums. It was that smile that only she knew. The real one.

“It’s not fear of failure,” he confessed. “It’s fear of not being enough. You…you are so many things.”

She laughed, looking at him with that sparkle in her eyes that made everything seem easy.

“So we do it together. And you’ll see: what you take from life... is this.”

When everyone went to sleep and only the two of them were left in the room with the movie paused and the lights dimmed, she dozed off with her legs over his. Lando didn't have the heart to wake her up. He stayed there, running his hand through her hair, watching her serene and sleepy expression.

And it was in that moment — simple, calm, without anything extraordinary — that he knew for sure.

It wasn't the highest podium he wanted to reach.

It was her.

That was it.

It was all that.

And if he ever had the courage, he would tell her that he thought about asking for her hand right there, with her hair spread out on his lap and the muffled sound of the rain through the window.

But for now, Lando was content to kiss her forehead and promise, with all his heart:

“I will make you happy. Every Sunday. Forever, if you let me.”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[whambamsami]

private show

summary: your shitty boyfriend wants to go to a strip club for his birthday. one of the dancers is desperate to give you the attention you deserve. stripper!bucky pt.1

pt.2

warnings: 18+, adult themes, eventual smut, language, alcohol, let me know if i miss anything!

note: not proofread, so sorry if there's any errors/plot holes! let me know if there's anything i should fix <3

You didn’t want to be here.

Not in the dimly lit, velvet-drenched VIP lounge of a high-end strip club your boyfriend had insisted on for his birthday. Not in the too-tight dress he told you to wear. Not beside him while he ogled other women like you weren’t even there.

“Loosen up,” Nick said, draping his arm around you, with that smile that had won you over months ago, but now just rubbed you the wrong way. “It’s my birthday party.” 

You’d smiled too. Barely. Enough to keep the peace.

He’d begged for this, told you only an insecure woman wouldn’t let him go on his birthday. Hell, he’d even wanted you to tag along.

You thought he wanted you to come with him and his belligerent friends to see that it wasn’t all that bad, to make you more comfortable.

But you were starting to think he got off on making you watch. 

He was generous enough to at least take you to a club that let both genders dance alike, and it was almost overwhelming, seeing men and women’s bodies, some fully exposed, some adorning tiny leather getups, gyrating on stage.

Your boyfriend, the perfect gentleman. 

And he wonders why you won’t take him home to meet your parents.

His friends are all practically howling at a woman onstage, pushing your boyfriend up to get closer to her. She’s wearing nipple pasties, crotchless panties, a pair of stilettos that have you fearing for her ankles, and a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Not that Nick would notice. He never noticed that kind of thing when it came to women. That, or he didn’t care.

“You won’t mind if I get a private dance, will you, babe?”

You wanted to feel angry at him. For him to see just how fucked this entire situation was. You should be feeling more.

But you just felt disgust. He made your skin crawl. You couldn’t give a shit about what he did here. He’d lost you the second he suggested this. 

So you nod tightly. An apology flashes in the woman’s eyes as she slinks off the stage next to him. 

You can’t be mad at her. It’s just business. 

And honestly, the fact that someone else would be filling in for you tonight, pretending to derive any pleasure from whatever Nick planned on doing, was a relief. You weren’t sure you would have it in you.

Not wanting to hear what his pitiful friends had to say about the situation you now found yourself in, you made a break for the bar, flagging down a topless bartender and politely asking for one of the craft cocktails. 

Hey, at least you could get something out of tonight. 

The bartender returned with your cocktail in hand. On the house, he’d said. You wished he was just being friendly, but the look in his eyes told you what this really was.

Pity. 

Whatever. The drink was good. Strong. Exactly what you needed to dull your senses a little, to get your mind off how you even ended up in this club in the first place. 

As you sipped, admittedly a bit faster than you should, the music shifted- bass-heavy and seductive.

The next performer was about to take the stage. 

You turned to face the velvet curtains that hid whoever was up next. Maybe you could pick up a few things, some tips that you could bring to your next relationship.

Your next boyfriend would be more appreciative, you promised yourself.

Better in bed, too. 

The second you saw him, though, everything else blurred.

Huh. A male performer.

All’s fair, right?

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark stubble shadowing a wicked mouth. Ice-blue eyes that swept the room with slow, calculated confidence. His body was lethal, dressed in nothing but black dress pants and a white button-down-half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, like sin in motion.

Your breath caught.

The performer didn’t smile. Not at first. 

But you swear he made eye contact with you.

And when he did, he flashed his canines. Just for a second. Like he knew every dirty thought that was flashing in your head. Like he knew something you didn’t.

The lights dim. The music gets louder. Or maybe everything else gets quieter, you’re not sure.

And suddenly, he’s all you could see.

He walks onto the stage like he’s stalking prey-calm, confident, dangerous. Not a trace of performance in his stride. He doesn’t play it for laughs or gimmicks. He doesn’t wink. He hunts.

The music pulses dark and slow. He unbuttons his shirt one button at a time, each flick of fabric revealing warm, taut muscle, tattoos, scars, shadows that make your mouth dry.

He glances down-just once-and finds your eyes again in the dark.

You squeeze your thighs together, shift again, try to look anywhere else-but it’s no use. He knows what he’s doing. He knows he’s got you.

He unzips his pants. Just an inch. Just enough to make your exhale stutter.

And the second you breathe out, his tongue drags across his bottom lip.

You’re going to combust.

“There you are!” 

You’re snapped out of whatever spell he had you under.

Your boyfriend returned from his little dance, wearing a smile that was a little too wide. Nick and his friends surrounded you at the bar, cutting off what you could see of the performance, much to your disappointment. You didn’t even care when you saw him whispering excitedly to his buddies, when you watched them pat him on the back like he’d won some kind of game, when their eyes would dart over to you like you didn’t know any better. 

Like you were stupid.

You steal a glance at the stage to try and catch the end of the man’s performance, but all you see is the swish of curtains closing as he disappears backstage.

Could this night get any worse?

As if the bartender could read your mind, he appeared again, placing what appeared to be a very expensive bottle of chilled champagne in front of you. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t order-”

“On the house.” he stated simply, as if you should have known. The little gold name tag that rested low on his waistband told you his name was Sam. 

God, at least the service here was great. 

Nick and his friends hooted and hollered, reaching for the bottle, excited to grab a glass, but Sam stopped them, pulling the bottle just far enough out of reach. 

“Sorry, boys, but I’m under strict instructions that this is for the lady only. No sharing.”

Your boyfriend’s lips pursed. 

“What, did somebody roofie that or something? Babe, you’re not drinking that. I don’t trust it.” and to solidify his point, he wrapped his arm around you. His sweaty, gross arm. 

You hated that he still felt like he could touch you like this. 

“Actually, sir, that bottle is for her to take to one of the private rooms. This doesn’t happen often, but she’s been asked to join one of our dancers.”

Your stomach dipped.

The champagne sparkled in the light, a little ribbon of condensation sliding down the glass like it knew how flustered you felt.

“She’s been… what?” Nick scoffed, voice rising with laughter he clearly didn’t feel. “Asked to join a dancer?”

Sam nodded, unbothered. You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of a smile on his face, like he was secretly enjoying this. 

“That’s right. Bucky requested her personally.” You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of a smile on his face, like he was secretly enjoying this. “Very rare, especially for him. I’d take it as a compliment.”

Nick scoffed again, turning to you like it was some kind of joke. 

“You’re not seriously considering that, are you?”

You blinked. Slowly. 

Then you looked down at his arm around your waist-the one that had gotten too heavy, too tight, too possessive over time-and peeled it off like it burned.

“You got a dance too, right?” you said evenly, reaching for the neck of the bottle, “At least mine is free.”

Nick’s friends laughed awkwardly. He didn’t.

“He’s probably just trying to upsell you some bullshit champagne fantasy. It’s a trick.”

Sam snorted as he grabbed two champagne flutes.

“Yeah, well. If it is, it’s working.”

Nick reached for your waist, and for once, you were thankful that he was so fucking sweaty all the time, because it let you slip out of his grip. 

“You don’t know what kind of guy he is.”

That made you laugh. It sounded more bitter than you’d ever heard it.

“He’s a stripper, Nick. Not exactly looking for Prince Charming right now. But whatever kind of guy he is, it looks like he’s interested in treating me a bit better than you are.”

Then you turned, grabbed the bottle, and followed Sam toward the back—heart hammering, adrenaline singing through your veins.

You didn’t know what was waiting for you behind the curtain.

But whatever it was?

It had to be better than this.

[brookghaib-blog]

Silence between hearts

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: After Project SENTRY fails, Robert Reynolds is declared dead and sealed in a glass coffin to be hidden by O.X.E. Y/N, a doctor who secretly fell in love with him after a complicated path between them, refuses to believe he’s gone—fighting to save what’s left of him while grief and denial consume her, the path to look for him would ruin her, but to what extreme.

Word count: 8,9k

--

The Jade Viper Bar - Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia - 11:47 PM

The humidity clung to Y/N's silk dress like a second skin as she paused beneath the flickering neon sign of The Jade Viper. The bar's crimson glow reflected in the puddles at her feet, staining the rainwater the color of diluted blood. Her fingers tightened around the beaded clutch in her hand—a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday, back when she still had hope that would care for her as his daughter.

"This is where you'll find what we need," Valentina had purred over the phone that morning, the sound of ice clinking in her glass audible even through the static. "Desperate men make the best test subjects, darling. And you? You look just innocent enough to reel one in."

Y/N exhaled through her nose, watching her breath disturb the thick, smoke-laden air as she pushed through the door.

The bar was a study in controlled chaos.

The scent of stale beer and sweat hit her first, followed by the acrid tang of something chemical burning in the backroom. A ceiling fan spun lazily above, doing nothing to dispel the heat that pressed against her skin like an unwanted touch. The led lights trying to make look more exquisite, loud music blowing the place, and multiple people just partying and enjoying the night life Malaysia had to offer.

Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to her the moment she crossed the threshold.

She was a vision in emerald silk—too elegant, too clean for a place like this. The dress hugged her curves just enough to be dangerous, the slit up her thigh revealing a glimpse of skin that had several men shifting in their seats. Her heels clicked against the sticky floor as she made her way to the bar, the sound sharp as gunfire in the sudden hush.

The bartender—a grizzled man with a scar through his left eyebrow—watched her approach with the wary gaze of someone who'd seen beautiful things turn deadly.

"You lost, princess?" he asked, his voice rough as sandpaper. "You look like you're at the wrong place."

Y/N smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Not at all. I know exactly where I am." She slid onto a stool, the leather creaking beneath her. "Gin martini. Three olives."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. That kind of order didn't belong here.

As the bartender turned to make her drink, Y/N let her gaze wander across the room, cataloguing each potential candidate with clinical precision. Too aggressive. Too alert. Too healthy. She needed someone weak, easy, not much love for life. But also with strong body potential.

She needed this. For once she needed her project to work. Prove her father that she was succeful on her own, even after he sold it to Valentina, seeing his daughter's idea as a failure and unrreal theory that was a mistake of calculations by her brilliant mind. Her mind. That was what is important for him. For her to be someone he wants, smart enough, perfection at it's finest, inhuman if possible for the sake of results.

Even after so many deaths, the lab and all the project members kept going, mainly because of Valentina persistence, but also hers. She wants her creation to be real so she would be seen, so it could be hers and hers only. Even if it would work, Valentina would never have her weapon. It was her way of perfection and any human emotion would have to be pushed down. Not that she was raised with many. She was thought two things that were important, as someone in her field... and as a woman. Being the best, and being the prettiest. Be the perfect human that would be placed at the top of the chain.

Her father sold her project for money and because of his lack of faith on her science and calculations. But she knew, it was her way out.

Bob Reynolds wasn't hiding, but he might as well have been.

Curled into the darkest corner of the bar, he looked like a man trying to fold himself out of existence. His shoulders hunched forward protectively, hands shaking around a warm beer he couldn't afford to replace. When he lifted his head, the hollows beneath his eyes were deep enough to drown in.

Y/N watched his fingers twitch toward his jacket pocket for the tenth time in five minutes - searching for a fix that wasn't there. Golden Sentry withdrawal. She'd recognize the symptoms anywhere.

He startled when she slid into his booth, nearly knocking over his drink. "S-sorry," he mumbled automatically, eyes darting anywhere but her face. "This seat's... I mean, you probably..."

"What's you're name darling?" She pushed the untouched gin toward him.

He looks her in the eye, confused by her attention. "I'm Bob."

Y/N noted the sweat beading at his temples, the way his knee bounced uncontrollably. "You're shaking."

"Just cold."

In 90-degree heat.

She leaned forward slowly, giving him time to pull away. "I'm not heree to jugde anyone. What if I told you I could make it stop? The shaking. The cravings. All of it."

Bob flinched like she'd struck him. "Nothing makes it stop." His voice cracked. "I've tried everything."

"Not my treatment."

His laugh was a broken thing. "You some kind of doctor?"

"Exactly the kind you need. I can make you perfect Bob."

Bob's hands clenched around his glass. For a moment, she thought he might bolt. Then, so quiet she barely heard: "I don't have money lady?"

Y/N reached into her clutch. The business card trembled slightly in her grip - not from nerves, but the stifling heat. Or so she told herself.

"My name is Y/N," she said, pressing the card into his damp palm, "you're not paying a penny, you're receiving it. I'm very good at what I do, and looking at you, I can tell that you have the potential I'm looking for." She says closing and holding his hand. She really didn't have time to waste on him, but he looked easy to convince. A little reassurance, symphaty, seem interest and he will fold. He's lost. He just needed someone to care, and she knew exactly how to do it, because in the end, she knew it because she also desired it.

Looking at his eyes, and leaning towards him to indicate some type of attraction. Some type of need from him. "Or don't come, I'm just saying you have a solution. But if you want to just "party" and be who you are, that's fine. It's okay to live with now desires."

Bob looks at her hand still on top of his, and back to her. No doubt this lady was pretty, well-dressed, and her smell, God she smelt good. "I just... stop being hopefull for myself, it's ok really, I'm used to being me. It's all I've been all my life... Dr. Y/N."

She laughs, kinda finding funny the need for her label, he didn't knew her yet he already treated her as above him. Perfect. "I can change your being if you like, you can be someone knew. Someone you love."

"Where are you coming from? What's you story Dr.?"

She leans back, ready to start a conversation she definitely didn't have any interest, what type of drug addiction even cared about other people. She already knew the answer. He was a man and she was attractive. She already was disgusted, but he was a good candidate and she came a long way.

"I'm here working for a lab, a good one, and I'm a doctor there, investigating. But I was here and I had a free day, so why not go out...met a nice good looking man, you like that Bob?"

Bob blushed, being drowned by his shyness, not expeting the compliment from her. "I-I mean, yeah... You deserve it, you sound like you have an important job, that sounds exhausting. You deserve some time for yourself...but I...I'm not someone a woman like you would like to be seen... you're...too put together, and I'm...Bob."

He tried to laugh it off, telling his awful beliefs on himself while trying to make her go away. Not because he wanted to, but because she needed to, still feeling the effects of the drugs he took half an hour ago.

"I like Bob." She smiles, almost forced he thinks. But it was genuine, he was weak, no desires. Bob was about to become her creation, he was perfect for the role and she could not wait to make perfection out of him just so she could rub it in her father's face.

"I'm going to leave Bob, but I liked you, and I'm serious you should call the lab, I'll be there, it's just an experiment, you don't have to do anything or pay for nothing... just try something knew. Sometimes it's all you need. I'll make you put together too. You're too handsome to continue to be a waste of oxygen." She finishes her drink, never breaking eye contact.

Bob looked at her, half of him being perfectly lored by her words, and the other half being face by the reality of her thoughts that she was trying to hide all their conversation. A waste of oxygen.

"Bye Bob, see you tomorrow? Maybe after?" She holds his hand for the two seconds it took to spill that sentence, trying to be appealing, nice for him. Leaving and being out of the door in seconds, like she couldn't wait any more time to be out of that bar.

All that small and strange conversation to be appealing, to be persuasive. And what had convinced him was only one sentence that he wanted to turn into a lie. A waste of oxygen.

Outside, the monsoon rain had turned the streets to rivers.

Bob's voice echoed in her memory - that fragile hope beneath the suspicion. She'd heard it a hundred times in clinical trials. Seen it evaporate just as often.

Her phone buzzed.

"Did you find him?" Her father's voice was all sharp edges.

Y/N watched her reflection warp in a passing taxi's window. "I found a candidate."

"Good. Valentina wants him prepped by Thursday."

The call ended before she could reply.

Bob's hands had been shaking when he took her card. Not just from withdrawal - from fear. She'd seen the way his breath hitched when their fingers brushed, how he'd recoiled from his own reflection in the bar mirror.

Perfect.

Broken enough to say yes.

Strong enough to survive what came next.

Y/N stepped into the storm, letting the rain wash the bar's stench from her skin. Somewhere in the drowning city, Bob Reynolds was counting the minutes until his next fix.

She'd be there when he realized there wasn't one.

--

The phone's shrill ring shattered the predawn silence of Y/N's office. She'd been sitting in the same position for hours - back rigid against the leather chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin, watching the first gray fingers of dawn creep across Kuala Lumpur's skyline. The receiver felt unnaturally heavy when she lifted it.

"Y-yes?" A man's voice, frayed at the edges like torn fabric. "This is... this is Bob. From last night. You gave me..."

She heard the crumple of paper as he unfolded her business card for the hundredth time.

"I remember," Y/N said, her thumb tracing the edge of her research notes. The words Subject Acquisition: Phase One stared back at her in crisp black type.

There was a wet cough on the other end of the line, then silence. She could practically see him - slumped in some phone booth, picking at the scabs on his arms, the receiver slippery in his sweat-damp palm.

"I want to try," he finally whispered. "Your... your cure."

Y/N closed her eyes. Somewhere in the building, a centrifuge whirred to life. "Come to the address on the card. You can come now."

"Ahm.. I'm actually at the gate already."

--

Bob looked worse in daylight.

The fluorescent bulbs of Y/N's office exposed every ravage the meth had wrought - the yellowed nails, the scabs along his hairline, the way his left eyelid twitched uncontrollably. He sat perched on the edge of the guest chair like a bird ready to take flight, fingers picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

The room smelled of him now - stale smoke and unwashed skin, the chemical tang of desperation. Y/N's pristine world of glass beakers and stainless steel had been invaded by human decay.

"You're sober today," she observed, setting down a glass of water.

Bob's hands shook as he reached for it. "Twelve hours." His Adam's apple bobbed. "Longest in... I don't remember."

Y/N opened a drawer and slid a folder across the desk. Inside, glossy photos showed brain scans - a healthy one beside one ravaged by methamphetamine. Bob flinched.

"This is what you've done to yourself," she said. Then she flipped to another page. "This is what I can do."

The after images showed neurons reknitting, dopamine receptors blooming like flowers after rain. Bob's breath hitched.

"How?"

Y/N produced a small vial from her pocket. The liquid inside caught the light, glowing with an unnatural golden hue.

"Sentry," she said. "My creation."

The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. Bob stared at the vial with the desperate hunger of a dying man offered salvation.

"You'll stay here," Y/N continued. "Two months of monitoring. Daily bloodwork. Cognitive tests." She leaned forward, close enough to smell the stale smoke in his hair. "But when we're done? No more cravings. No more shakes. A perfect mind in a perfect body."

Bob's knee bounced erratically. "Why me?"

The question hung between them. Y/N's gaze flickered to the drawer where she'd shoved her father's latest email - another demand for results, another veiled threat.

"The world needs better people," she said automatically. Then, softer: "And I need to prove I can make them."

Something shifted in Bob's face. His bloodshot eyes traced the tension in her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip she kept on her pen. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible.

"You're what I need. I hope you can do it to me...and that people value you. I know I will Dr.."

The words struck Y/N like a physical blow. All her life - the stolen research, the sleepless nights, the desperate attempts to earn her father's approval - distilled into this single moment of unexpected recognition.

This broken man saw her. Not her father's daughter. Not Valentina's pawn.

Her.

This man...This unknown man she didn't even see as human. Gave her the one sentence she looked for. How could someone like him have more eyes that everyone around her.

"Yes Bob... Someone will value me, specially because of you."

--

Y/N was making her way to the lab room, Bob following her not much behind, looking around curious.

Reaching the automatic glass doors, using her face to unlock them, looking back to check on Bob's presence, they reach a white room, full of screens, a bed, medical tools, and what appeared to be a skylight above it.

"I need you to change to these clothes, they are clean, there's a bag where you can put all of you other belogings, the staff will put them in the room where you will be staying." She walks around picking up what looked like hospital clothing and a small clear bag, handing them to him.

"Where ahm...where do I change?" Bob asked looking around for a door or a space where privacy could reach him.

"You change here, I will come back with the team where you're ready, take your time and breath, be calm." She says as she goes out of the room leaving Bob to stare at the clothes thinking about the outcome this will have, and anxiety reaching him.

He was quick changing into the clothes, wanting for this to pass quickly, anxious for his new change and her promises to be reached.

After just a couple of minutes, Y/N walks again into the room, speaking to the four people following her around, giving them indications and their new subject. All of them had what looked like files on their hands. Looking at him, through him. He was an experiment here. He was not a person, and their looks showed him that.

"Okay Bob, I will make this as quick as it can be, I need you to lay down for me, breath and relax, roll up your sleves." Y/N was already walking to him, a wheeled steel table with all her tools in it with her.

The staff waited for him to lay down, plugging the wires onto his body, being scanned by all the machines circulating the bed.

Waiting, Y/N was ready for the serum to be inserted.

The syringe gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Bob rolled up his sleeve, exposing a landscape of track marks and scar tissue. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as Y/N swabbed his forearm with alcohol.

"It'll hurt," she warned.

Bob's cracked lips twisted into something resembling a smile. "Everything does."

The needle slid in with barely a whisper. As she depressed the plunger, the golden serum disappeared into his ravaged veins. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then—

Bob's back arched violently. The monitors behind them screamed their alarms as his heart rate spiked into dangerous territory. Y/N watched, transfixed, as golden veins spiderwebbed beneath his skin before fading back to blue.

When it was over, Bob lay panting on the tile, his sweat-slick hair plastered to his forehead. But when he lifted his head, his eyes - those impossibly blue eyes - were clearer than they'd been in years.

"What..." He flexed his fingers, marveling at their steadiness. "What did you do to me?"

Y/N reached out, almost against her will, and brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead. His skin burned beneath her touch.

"I saved you," she whispered.

And in saving him, perhaps herself.

--

The lights buzzed overhead, faint and cold, casting a pallid glow across the whitewashed walls. The room was small—bed, sink, a tray with untouched food—and reeked of bleach and sterilization. It wasn’t a hospital, not really. But it wanted to be.

Bob lay sprawled across the stiff mattress, limbs heavy, the back of his shirt clinging to his skin with sweat. His breath came slow and uneven, chest rising like it resented the work. The serum—it had burned. Not all at once, but like acid blooming beneath the surface, slow and invasive. Like it was trying to rewrite him from the inside out.

But he didn’t feel reborn.

He felt worse.

His mouth tasted like metal and old ash. Every joint ached. His thoughts, once too loud, now stuttered and faded like a dying signal. He couldn't tell if he was falling asleep or falling apart.

The door opened with a hiss.

No knock. No announcement.

She stepped inside like it was her own room—and maybe it was, in a way. Y/N didn’t look at the bed first. She looked at the monitors. The numbers. The notes clipped to a tablet she’d brought with her.

Only then did she glance down at him, curled slightly on his side, shirt sticking to his back, brow damp with fever-sweat.

“You’re still awake,” she said plainly. “Good.”

He stirred, barely.

His voice came out dry. “Didn’t realize... I had a curfew.”

She didn’t smile. She rarely did when it wasn’t performative. Instead, she walked across the room, heels clicking softly, stopping beside the bed without a hint of hesitation.

“How do you feel?” she asked, but there was no warmth in it. Just a checklist tone.

“Like I got hit by a truck full of glass and fire,” he muttered, groaning. “And maybe the truck reversed a few times.”

Y/N scribbled something on the tablet. “That’s to be expected. The serum forces rapid cellular restructuring. Pain is the first sign it’s working.”

He winced. “So… hurting means I’m lucky?”

“You’re alive,” she said curtly. “That’s lucky enough.”

She walked around the bed slowly, checking vitals on the wall display. Her movements were practiced, precise. Detached. Bob watched her through half-lidded eyes.

She didn’t ask if he needed water. She didn’t offer help.

“You should rest,” she said. “Testing begins in a few hours. We’ll need to see how your system is adapting.”

“Testing,” he repeated, voice cracked.

Y/N turned her gaze back to him. “Bloodwork. Endurance. Cognition. Neurological response. Physical output.”

She said it all like she was reading from a menu. He wasn’t a patient—he was a list of symptoms waiting to be documented.

Bob rolled onto his back, letting out a shaky breath.

“Does it usually feel like this?”

“No one’s gotten this far before,” she replied. “You’re my first functional subject.”

“...So the others...?”

She paused only briefly. “Dead. Or damaged beyond utility.”

Her words fell like stones into the silence.

Bob swallowed hard.

He could see it in her eyes, then. The truth she didn’t bother to hide. He wasn’t special. He wasn’t lucky. He was useful. A vessel. A second chance—for her, not for him.

“I thought you wanted to help people,” he whispered hoarsely.

Y/N looked at him evenly. “I want to perfect them.”

Then, more softly—almost to herself—she added, “And prove it.”

He frowned. “Prove it to who?”

But she was already turning away, walking back to the door.

“Rest, Robert,” she said without looking back. “You’ll need your strength.”

The door slid shut behind her, locking with a soft click.

Bob stared up at the ceiling, the white lights blurring in his vision. He felt small beneath them. Fragile.

And despite the serum coursing through his blood, despite the promise of perfection and power…

He had never felt more disposable.

--

The room was colder today.

Sterile, metallic, too white. It looked less like a lab and more like a crucible—where things were melted down, broken apart, and reforged into something unrecognizable. A theater of suffering dressed in stainless steel.

Bob stood in the center, shirtless, chest heaving, heart stuttering somewhere between exhaustion and fury. Electrodes clung to his skin like leeches. His veins bulged, dark and crawling, betraying the serum’s slow war through his body. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from something worse—a pressure building in his bones, coiling like a predator in his blood.

Y/N stood on the other side of the glass, arms folded. Immaculate as ever. Her lab coat fell like a cape, pristine, untouched by the sweat or blood of the man behind the glass.

“Begin endurance sequence,” she said flatly into the mic.

A low mechanical buzz stirred the floor. The assistant beside Bob—Harris, a younger man with the kind of condescending smirk that came from cushioned privilege—nodded without looking at him.

“On the treadmill, Subject Seven.”

Bob gritted his teeth. They never called him by name anymore. Just a number. A designation.

He staggered onto the machine, hands clenched.

The test began.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Thirty.

The speed increased with brutal indifference. Incline rising. Air growing thinner. His lungs begged. His legs screamed. Sweat poured down his back in rivers. He ran until his vision flickered, until the room swam with double-images and nausea clawed up his throat.

“Push harder,” came Y/N’s voice through the speaker.

There was no kindness in it.

Only calculation.

Only pressure.

The treadmill shut off with a sudden jerk, nearly throwing him forward.

“Vital scan,” she said.

Harris approached with a monitor, jamming a sensor against Bob’s chest without warning. The edge of it dug into bone. Bob hissed and shoved him back.

“Warn me next time.”

Harris scoffed. “You’re not here to be comfortable.”

Y/N didn’t intervene. She didn’t blink.

“Proceed with the physical resistance trial,” she said instead.

Bob was dragged to another station. Steel cables. Weighted bars. Movement resistance gloves. Every piece of equipment designed to test the threshold of pain, of muscle endurance, of recovery.

The tests went on for hours.

By the end, his knuckles were raw, blood darkening the wraps around his fingers. His breath came in ragged bursts. There was a tremor in his jaw he couldn’t bite back.

He collapsed to his knees.

Someone laughed. Harris again. “Thought you wanted to be fixed. You’re still just a junkie with good PR.”

Bob looked up, glassy-eyed, a thousand-yard stare beginning to burn into something more focused.

“What did you say?”

“I said maybe we should’ve picked someone who didn’t already have one foot in the grave.”

Bob’s jaw clenched.

“Enough,” Y/N said from behind the glass. “Draw blood and move him back to the room.”

But Harris didn’t wait. He moved in early—needle in hand—and without warning, jabbed it straight into the crook of Bob’s bruised elbow. Not cleanly. Not carefully.

Bob screamed.

The pain wasn’t just from the needle—it was from everything: the serum, the exhaustion, the voices, the fear, the humiliation. All of it twisted together like rusted wire around his spine.

He snapped.

His hand shot out on instinct, fist colliding with Harris’s chest with a thunderous crack. The man went flying across the lab, slamming into the far wall hard enough to leave a bloody smear as he crumpled.

Gasps erupted from the medical staff.

Alarms blared.

Bob stood there, eyes wild, chest heaving. For a second, he didn’t look like a man. He looked like a storm that had grown legs.

Y/N didn’t flinch.

She stepped into the lab with calm precision, clipboard still in hand, heels echoing on the tile. Bob turned toward her, half-dazed, arms trembling.

“You’re stronger,” she said simply, as if it were an observation on the weather.

“No,” he rasped. “You made me into a monster.”

She looked him up and down, unafraid. “No I didn't. You're perfect.”

Security moved toward him—stun batons raised—but she lifted one hand.

“Stand down.”

They froze.

Bob’s vision blurred at the edges. His breath slowed. The pain roared in his bones, but something beneath it… something deeper… had awoken.

He looked at Harris’s body, groaning on the floor, and then at Y/N.

And for the first time, she smiled, a smile that was so weirdly big, as tears come to her face. Letting out a laugh.

The serum was finally working.

--

The days bled into each other like old bruises—yellow, purple, sickly at the edges. The lights never turned off in the lab. Time was a theory. Sleep was optional. Mercy didn’t exist.

Bob had stopped asking what day it was. It didn't matter. The white coats came in with needles and wires and machinery. They attached him to things that clicked and beeped, asked him to move until his muscles screamed, screamed until his throat was raw, stayed silent when the pain crested too high for sound.

And then they’d start again.

Y/N stood behind the glass every morning. Always there, always watching. Never speaking unless it was necessary.

But she noticed.

She was the only one who did.

Because Bob wasn’t just breaking.

He was changing.

It started subtly. During the third day of exhaustive neural tests, when they placed him in sensory isolation and bombarded his nervous system with synthetic stress triggers—pain, voices, unbearable flashes of childhood trauma, withdrawal memories. He wept. Screamed. Clawed at the padded walls of the isolation tank.

Then… he stopped.

The tears dried.

The shaking ceased.

What replaced it was worse.

He went silent.

Staring.

Not at anything in particular. Just… outward. Through people, through walls. A haunted, still look that didn’t belong to the broken man who had first walked into her office days ago.

Y/N wrote it down. She didn’t mention it aloud. She simply noted:

Subject displays catatonic dissociation under stress. Staring. Withdrawn. Possible early signs of compensatory mental partitioning.

But it wasn’t just psychological.

The next day, during resistance drills—after twenty minutes of relentless physical abuse from a pair of armored guards trying to test his “combat reflexes”—one of them hit too hard. A baton cracked against his ribs, and Bob let out a visceral, breathless gasp, collapsing to his knees.

“You like being weak?” one of them said.

The room tilted. Bob’s hand dug into the ground.

And then, something shifted.

He stood. Not stumbled—stood. Smoothly. Slowly. Like someone was pulling strings from inside him.

His eyes were blank, but his voice was cold, quiet.

“Don’t touch me again.”

The guard laughed. Raised the baton.

And Bob caught it mid-swing.

There was no warning. No shout.

Just the crack of bone as he bent the guard’s wrist backward without effort. The man screamed. The second guard lunged—and was thrown across the room with a single shove, slamming into the reinforced wall so hard that plaster cracked.

Y/N pressed her palm to the glass, watching intently.

Not afraid.

Not surprised.

Bob’s chest heaved. Muscles flexed like coiled cables beneath his sweat-slick skin. His arms were bigger. Tighter. The veins under his skin pulsed black-blue, like oil moving just beneath the surface.

Power. Raw. Unfocused. But there.

The strength was real.

But so was something else.

Because later—when the sedatives had worn off, and he sat in the corner of his cell again, knees drawn to his chest—he cried.

He didn’t remember everything. Just flashes. Sounds. His own voice, low and unfamiliar, echoing in his ears.

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” he whispered when Y/N came in.

She didn’t answer.

She only crouched, observing him through the glass panel of the cell.

“No one listens to me,” he said, curling tighter. “I keep telling them I’m not okay. I keep begging. But no one listens.”

Y/N stared, impassive.

He turned his face toward her slowly, eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

“…But you see it, don’t you?” he murmured. “You know something’s wrong with me.”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “Something is evolving in you.”

“I’m scared,” he whispered. “I think I’m losing myself.”

She didn’t deny it.

She only said, “Then let it go.”

He stared again. That look returning. Vacant and chilling. As if he had retreated somewhere too deep to reach.

Later, under dim lighting in the observation theater, she reviewed footage: one of the medical staff caught Bob in profile—chest rising, bruises blooming under his collarbones, lips moving silently. He was mouthing something.

She zoomed in. Enhanced.

"I am here."

Repeated. Over and over. Lips forming the words without sound.

And then, he looked up into the lens.

Straight into the camera.

And smiled. Eyes glowing at her.

--

The facility hummed low with artificial life—hallways whispering with cold air vents, dimmed fluorescents casting long shadows across clean, quiet floors. Staff moved with mechanical precision, all too used to the rhythms of experimentation. But tonight, they moved away from one room in particular. Cleared by command.

Y/N’s command.

“Clear the wing. No assistants,” she said without looking up from the data pad. “From here on, I handle Subject Seven’s diagnostics myself.”

Her tone didn’t allow for debate. She didn’t offer reasons, and none of them dared ask. Even Valentina wouldn’t blink—this was her project now. And this subject was beginning to show signs that were far too promising… or far too dangerous to be shared.

She entered his containment room alone, the steel doors sealing behind her with a final hiss. No windows this time. No cameras. She had disabled the feed herself.

Bob sat in the far corner of the room, back against the padded wall, shirtless, still glistening with the faint sheen of post-test sweat. His eyes tracked her warily—red-rimmed, sunken, uncertain. He was thinner than before, but there was something volatile in the way his shoulders tensed, like a man bracing for an earthquake he couldn’t outrun.

He felt sick.

More than that—he felt wrong.

The door opened with a soft hiss. Y/N stepped inside alone again, clipboard in hand, her heels tapping a rhythm that was fast becoming routine. She didn’t knock. She never did.

He didn’t lift his head. Just mumbled, “You don’t believe in knocking, do you?”

“No need,” she replied flatly. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen.”

Her tone was cool as always—clinical. But there was a slight falter in her pace as she got closer, and she noticed something: despite his bruised ribs, his split lip, the tremor in his fingers from exhaustion—he was still sitting up straight. He looked present.

Not shattered.

Not yet.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, setting the clipboard down.

“Better,” he said softly, finally looking at her. “I think… I think it helps.”

“What does?”

“The pain.” He smiled, small and sad. “It makes sense. I deserve it. For the man I was before. For the mess I made of my life. This… this is better than rotting on the streets.”

She narrowed her eyes, studying him.

“You’re saying you like this?”

“No,” he said. “But I accept it. And that’s more than I ever had before.”

There was silence for a beat. She tilted her head, intrigued.

“You think punishment makes you worthy?”

He looked away. “Maybe it’s the only thing that ever will.”

Y/N said nothing, but her gaze didn’t soften. There was no pity. Only analysis. Still, she crossed the room slowly and sat down across from him. Close enough for him to feel the heat of her presence. He glanced up at her, eyes tired and rimmed red.

“You’re different when you're in here,” he said after a moment. “Not like when you’re watching through the glass.”

“That’s because in here, I get answers.”

He nodded, then flinched—just slightly. A jolt of pressure shot through his chest, like a sudden drop. His breathing hitched.

“Hey—hey,” she stood quickly, alarm sharpening her voice. “What’s happening?”

But his body was already stiffening.

His fingers twitched, curled. His skin flushed gold under the surface like light through amber. A radiant pulse began to bloom from his chest—like a sun cracking through skin. Then his eyes snapped open.

They were glowing.

Brilliant, gold-white. Blinding.

He stood slowly, and this time, he was taller. Straighter. Something inhuman rippled beneath his skin—a calm storm, barely held.

She took a single step back.

He tilted his head, that warm glow behind his gaze searing into her.

“I don’t deserve pain,” he said, but it wasn’t Bob’s voice anymore—not entirely. It was deeper. Richer. Full of something ancient. “I deserve reverence.”

She didn’t speak.

The air buzzed.

“You made me,” he said, stepping closer. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said carefully.

“You shaped me from ruin.” His voice was equal parts wonder and command. “Then you broke me again.”

“I had to test you.”

“No,” he said sharply. “You wanted to see if I’d submit. But I’m not a man anymore. You saw it. You know.”

She watched him, heart thudding—not with fear, but fascination.

She understood now.

Bob craved punishment. But the Sentry—this glowing, impossible god standing before her—craved something else.

Worship.

“Yes,” she said, slowly, reverently. “I saw you. And you were… perfect.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. She took a careful step toward him.

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” she said, voice low. “Not even close. What you are—it’s not a mutation. It’s not a mistake. It’s creation. You’re not a man, you’re the answer.”

The golden light around him flared softly.

“You think I’m the answer?” he asked, voice tinged with curiosity, with hunger.

“I think,” she whispered, “you’re the beginning of something new.”

A pause. Then, something softened in him. Not entirely human. Not at all safe. But… tamed. For a moment.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m perfect.”

She smiled. “You’re perfect.”

He took a breath—deep and indulgent—and let it out like a sigh of relief. His eyes dimmed slightly, his shoulders relaxing.

And just like that, the Sentry quieted. He didn’t vanish. But he leaned back into the body that held him, content, for now, to bask in her gaze.

Bob blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. He looked at her, confused, uncertain.

“What just happened…?”

“Nothing,” she said smoothly, stepping away and picking up her clipboard. “You're tired. Get some rest. We start again tomorrow.”

She left the room without another word.

But behind the glass, she made a single note in the margin of his file:

Praise increases compliance. Needs reverence. He responds to adoration.

--

The silence in the observation room was a heavier thing than it had ever been. Y/N stood at the glass wall, arms limp at her sides, her expression unreadable. Behind that wall, Bob sat hunched on the floor of his quarters. The cot remained untouched—he rarely used it anymore. His knees were drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them, trembling slightly under the white fabric of his uniform.

The last few days had been a slow collapse.

The tests had grown more invasive, more demanding. Neural taps. Strength resistance simulations. Pain tolerance trials. Every time he seemed to stabilize, something inside him would shift—memories would fray, his gaze would glaze, or worse, he would look at her and flinch like she was a stranger.

His powers were accelerating rapidly, almost impossibly. Muscle density, healing capabilities, visual acuity. All off the charts. But the mind—the man inside the mutation—was breaking open at the seams.

And the scariest part wasn’t when Bob cried or screamed or begged.

It was when he stared.

Quiet. Still. Gone somewhere deep.

She had seen that kind of stillness once—on her father’s face.

Y/N pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose and sighed.

You’re losing him.

And if she lost Bob, she lost everything. Her work. Her legacy. Her revenge. But more than that—deep down, in a part of herself she refused to name—she knew she might also be losing the only living being who had ever looked at her like she mattered.

She stepped through the airlock and into his quarters.

The moment the door hissed closed, Bob’s eyes twitched toward her. Red-rimmed. Tired. Suspicious.

She didn’t speak right away. Just walked slowly, carefully, and crouched beside him—knees creaking, lab coat brushing the floor. She didn't reach for him. Just existed in his space for a moment, with warmth in her silence.

“You came to hurt me again?” he murmured, voice cracking.

She shook her head. “No. Not today.”

His brow furrowed, confused. Guarded.

Y/N let out a breath and sat fully beside him, her back resting against the cold wall.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said softly. “About everything I’ve put you through. And I think I made a mistake.”

He didn’t answer. But he was listening.

“I treated you like a subject. A tool,” she said. “And that’s not fair. I told myself it was necessary. That pain was the price of progress. But… you’re not just a project. You’re a person. You’ve been through hell. And I didn’t stop to see it.”

A long silence.

Then: “Why are you saying this?”

“Because I want to do better,” she said honestly, gently. “Because I see what this is doing to you, and I can’t pretend it’s okay anymore.”

He looked at her, blinking hard. “You made me this way.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Bob turned away, resting his head back against the wall. “I feel like I’m disappearing. Like there’s someone else in here, pushing me out. And I’m scared.”

Her heart twisted. She reached out, finally, and placed her hand carefully on top of his, not forcing him to accept it, just… there.

“You don’t have to be scared alone,” she said. “You’ve had no one. I can be here. With you. If you want.”

He didn’t move.

But he didn’t pull away.

“I thought you hated me,” he said quietly.

“I’ve never hated you.”

He didn’t answer.

So she went on.

“You didn’t deserve the things that happened to you before this. And maybe you think you deserve what’s happening now—but you don’t. No one does.”

He looked down at their hands. His fingers flexed slightly, touching hers. “Then why does it feel right when it hurts?”

Her throat tightened. “Because they taught you pain was all you were worth.”

He shivered, and she shifted closer.

“But I see more than that in you,” she murmured. “You’re strong, Bob. Brave. Smarter than you think. And maybe… maybe you’re becoming something even greater.”

His breath caught. “Greater?”

She smiled faintly. “Stronger than anyone. Maybe not just better. But… perfect.”

His eyes glowed—just faintly, flickering like a match.

That always happened when he surfaced. The part of him that didn’t shake. That didn’t cry.

The part that needed to be told he was everything.

“You think I’m perfect?” he asked, his voice lower now—not quite his own.

Y/N met his gaze, softer than ever. “I think you’re becoming something no one will ever be able to match.”

He straightened slowly, eyes glowing brighter now, tension rippling through his muscles as if remembering his own greatness. His shoulders squared.

“I knew it,” he said, voice nearly serene. “You saw it too.”

And just like that, the shattered man was buried beneath a new mask.

One that needed her—for now.

She stayed at his side. Letting him feel her warmth. Letting him believe.

Because even gods needed temples.

And she would be his, if it kept him in her control.

If it saved her masterpiece.

--

It started with something small.

A candy bar.

Bob hadn’t tasted real sugar in weeks—his meals had been measured and rationed, protein-heavy, vitamin-saturated, dull as sand. So when she handed him the wrapped snack during one of their quieter sessions—no needles, no machines, just a clipboard resting on her lap—his fingers trembled as he opened it. He didn’t say anything, just took a bite, and then another. A smudge of chocolate smeared the corner of his mouth.

Y/N wiped it away with the corner of her sleeve.

“You’re not just data,” she murmured, more to herself than him. “You’re a person. They forget that sometimes.”

He didn’t look at her, but something shifted in his chest. A tightness he hadn’t even realized was there uncoiled just slightly.

The next day, she brought him a sandwich—soft bread, warm chicken. The next, a coffee, real coffee, not the sterile nutrient fluid they pumped into the subjects. Then a blanket. Socks. A chair with a cushion. Lip balm.

She noticed everything. His hunger. His discomfort. His silence.

And she fixed it.

When the tests were brutal—and they always were—she would come storming into the lab, voice sharp, eyes aflame, berating the staff with just the right fury. “This wasn’t what we discussed,” she’d snap, standing between him and the machines. “He’s not an animal.”

They would quiet, nod, retreat.

They never questioned her authority. She was the one in charge. She wrote the protocols. She set the bar.

But Bob never connected the dots. Never saw that the pain they inflicted was her design. Because afterward, she was always there.

Bandaging his arms.

Apologizing in soft whispers.

“I wasn’t there,” she’d say, kneeling by his cot. “I would have stopped them.”

She’d stay late. Sit beside him as the lights dimmed, reading his vitals by the glow of the monitors. Sometimes, when the nightmares returned—trembling fits, disjointed flashes of his old life, screaming into the dark—he’d wake up to her hand stroking gently through his hair.

“Shhh,” she’d whisper. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

It became a ritual.

She would stay until he fell asleep.

Sometimes longer.

Bob stopped talking to the other staff. He stopped looking at them. When they tried to coax him out of his room for a scan or an exam, he ignored them. Refused to move.

But when Y/N came—just a quiet knock, her voice soft—he followed. Always.

He trusted her.

She was his tether.

His anchor in the chaos of his fracturing mind. The only constant in a world of shifting memories and invasive pain.

Once, when his powers flared unexpectedly—he’d bent a steel tray in half without realizing it—he panicked. Terrified he was losing control. He fell to the floor, fists clenched, gasping.

She was there in seconds.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back.

She held him.

“You’re okay,” she murmured, over and over, stroking his back. “You’re not a monster. You’re mine. You hear me? I’ll take care of you.”

He clung to her like a child.

He needed her.

And she knew it.

The deeper he fell into her care, the more isolated he became. They made sure of it. A slow, strategic withdrawal of other contact. Less staff rotation. Fewer voices. Always her.

When he cried, it was for her.

When he smiled, it was because of her.

He began to crave her presence—watching the door like a loyal hound, ears pricking at the sound of her heels.

She was warmth. She was safety. She was love.

Even if it wasn’t real.

Even if it was perfectly orchestrated.

Because behind every soft glance, every nurturing hand, was calculation.

Her notes were full of it.

Subject displays increased cooperation when exposed to emotional care. Recommend continued one-on-one interaction to maximize psychological dependency. Rapid increase in obedience and physical response post-praise.

She was feeding his weakness, nurturing it into loyalty.

And he—poor, broken, beautiful Bob—never questioned it.

Because for the first time in his life, someone stayed.

--

The room was dimly lit, bathed in the faint hum of soft blue monitor lights, the walls lined with quiet machines blinking in quiet rhythm—everwatchful, everrecording. Bob lay still under the sterile sheets, his eyes open and distant. Y/N sat beside him, as she had most nights now, phone in hand, scrolling, half-engaged, the way one humors a pet that insists on your presence but not your focus.

Tonight was different, though. Bob could feel it.

The pain hadn’t dulled. If anything, it gnawed deeper. His joints ached in ways they shouldn’t. His head throbbed from the flashes—memories that weren’t his, voices that spoke in his tone but not his mind. He felt stretched, hollowed.

And tonight, it felt unbearable.

He turned his head slightly on the pillow to look at her. “You don’t have to be here.”

She blinked, not looking up from her phone.

“I know you’re faking it,” he continued, voice soft—no malice, no accusation, just truth worn thin by exhaustion. “But at least you give me something I crave. And you’re so good at it.”

That made her pause.

The screen lit her face in faint light as she looked up slowly, phone frozen in her hand.

Her eyes searched his—half-expecting him to be teasing, or confused. But there was clarity there. Depth. Something terrifyingly aware behind those tired blue eyes.

For a moment, she didn’t speak.

He continued to stare at the ceiling, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You're not like the others,” he murmured. “You're better. You know how to make someone feel needed. Even if it's a lie.”

Y/N’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. Something in her stomach twisted. How long had he known? Had he always? Or was this…new?

She blinked quickly and set her phone aside, suddenly animated, leaning forward as if the shift in posture could erase what he'd said. Her voice took on a lighter tone, tinged with breathy disbelief. “Bob… What are you talking about?” she asked gently, smiling—just enough to seem soft, not insincere. “You’re exhausted. I think you’re reading too much into this. I’m just tired too, that’s all.”

But her heart was thudding—he shouldn’t be this perceptive.

She had to pivot, quickly.

Before he could retreat from her care. Before he saw too much.

Her expression softened further, and she tilted her head with a playful, sympathetic tilt. “You know what I think?” she said gently, resting a hand over his. “I think you’re overthinking everything again. You do that when you're stressed.”

He didn’t pull away. He just watched her. So quiet. So tired.

And desperate for something—anything.

“Hey…” she said more gently, voice dipping into something warm and honeyed. “Why don’t we both rest? Just for a bit. You’ve had a long day. We both have. Friends… look after each other, right?”

He blinked. Her words felt strange. “Friends?”

She nodded, already slipping out of her shoes, unbuttoning her coat slowly and setting it on the chair, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I can stay here,” she said softly, slipping under the covers beside him. “Just tonight.”

Bob turned his head toward her, the sheets rustling slightly as her presence warmed the space beside him. He didn’t move, frozen, eyes wide—not with fear, but with something achingly vulnerable.

She smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. Her fingertips brushed his skin so gently, it nearly undid him.

" I really care about you Bob,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer, afraid his voice would crack.

And then—everything went black.

As if the light had been swallowed whole, not turned off.

The monitors shut down. The gentle hum of the lab fell silent in an instant. Y/N sat upright, eyes wide in the pitch darkness.

The air in the room changed.

Heavy. Electric. Like a storm about to break.

Looking down trying to see Bob, she was alone.

The cold that seeped through her skin wasn’t natural.

Y/N blinked and the room was gone.

Bob—gone.

The hum of machines, the sterile scent of the lab, the soft glow of artificial light—all gone.

Darkness surrounded her now, thick and oppressive, as if she had been plunged beneath ink. She turned in place, breath hitching. Her heels clicked softly against a polished floor that should not exist. And then—

A single note.

A piano.

Sharp. Perfect.

Then—

CRACK.

The sound of a whip slicing air and meeting flesh. Sharp. Wet.

Another piano key.

Then another. A rhythm. Crack. A scream. A perfect A major. Crack. A low sob. F sharp.

It came in cycles.

And suddenly, she knew.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes adjusted, and the room took form from the shadows like a curtain lifting on a stage she had long since burned away in her mind.

The piano room.

Her piano room.

Back in the penthouse. The place that smelled of waxed mahogany, stale wine, and disappointment. It was too real—the ivory keys smeared with red, the glossy floor reflecting the warped chandelier light above.

And at the piano—a girl.

A child no more than eleven.

Immaculately dressed. A long, silken white gown with lace cuffs. Her dark hair pinned back into a braided crown that a governess had once spent an hour perfecting. But her hands… her hands were ruined.

They bled at the joints, fingertips raw, the keys slick with crimson trails—but still she played.

La campanella.

The impossible song. A cruel performance that her father once deemed the measure of genius. Of perfection.

Her perfection.

Standing beside the girl was a tall man, graying, stoic in his dark three-piece suit. His eyes held no pity. No pride. Only expectation.

The power cable in his hand—industrial, rubber, humming faintly with static and fury—swung by his side. Streaked red.

The child faltered.

She missed a note.

She froze.

He turned to her with the stillness of a statue and said, cold as winter steel: “Get up.”

The little girl trembled, tears streaming down her face—but she obeyed.

She stood. Laid her bleeding hand on the piano bench. No one needed to explain what came next.

CRACK.

Y/N screamed—not aloud, not outwardly, but deep, guttural, in her chest where no one could hear.

She stumbled back, shaking. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop it. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her breath short.

Suddenly, the lights flickered.

The walls warped, stretching and flexing like the inside of a dying heartbeat. The chandelier pulsed with an unnatural glow.

And the piano stopped.

So did everything else.

And then—like a snap— they were back.

The room. The bed. The lamp on the desk.

Y/N was still lying beside him, but she was sitting upright now, gasping, covered in sweat. Her eyes darted around in disbelief. Her phone was still on the nightstand. The monitor still beeped. The world was normal.

Bob sat up next to her, breathing hard. “Did… did you see that?”

She turned to him slowly. Her voice was dry.

“You were there too?”

He nodded.

Neither spoke for a long moment.

Only the sound of Bob’s heavy breathing and the soft flicker of the light filled the space between them.

Then he whispered, “What just happened?”

And for once, Y/N didn’t have an answer.

She only knew one thing now.

Something else was inside him.

And now, it had seen her.

[azaleassence]

Party 4 u

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: ever since you joined The Avengers, you always found Bucky attractive and interesting. call it love at first sight maybe. during your time in The Avengers, you'd always go over your limit when he's around-- wishing to just impress him. but despite everything, every show-off, every flirtatious comment you throw at him, every mention of your name-- he never gave you at least a bit of his attention. it wasn't until your birthday when you decided you were done. the last string pulled? him not coming to your birthday. you lived your life knowing that he never got the hint but... a part of him knew.

warnings: yearning!reader x actingoblivious!character, slight angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, no use of y/n, desperate and longing reader

a/n: this is my first song-oneshot, I've gotten a sudden liking to avengers, bucky specifically :p

length: 1.3k

Watching as the place you rented out slowly filled up with people you've invited; greetings and hugs seemed never-ending.

Your eyes scanned the room as you looked for the people you've invited first, the Avengers. Your eyes landed on the corner party booth as a smile perked up on your lips. Moving through the crowd, you gradually made it to the booth.

"I'm so glad you guys came." You expressed as Natasha stood up from the booth and engulfed you in a hug.

"Of course we'd come, can't miss this day for the world." She responded as she pulled away from the hug and patted you on your lower middle back.

[I only threw this party for you]

You looked at the booth, confused as two people were missing from the team.

"Where's Cap and Bucky?" You asked, trying hard not to seem so concerned for the two.

[I was hoping you'd come through]

"Steve messaged me and told me that they'd get here late, dealing with Bucky's problems." Sam responded as he turned his phone off.

"Problems? Did something happen?" You ask as you took a seat beside Natasha and grabbed one of the shot glasses. 

"Don't know, Steve didn't say." Sam shrugged as he took another swig of his beer from the glass he was holding.

"Why, concerned?" Natasha piped in as you turned to look at her with a face giving a silent warning to not continue what she was implying.

[I'm about to party on you]

"No, just wondering." You swiftly covered up as you downed the shot of alcohol you grabbed from the table, wincing as the strong taste hits your throat. "That's god awful. What is this?" 

"That was a shot of Everclear, Natasha was making a drink." Clint looked at you with a half-disgusted face that you downed a shot of one of the most strongest alcohol and half-concerned face.

"Well, shit." You chuckled at yourself before grabbing one of the alcohol bottles present on the table and poured yourself a shot.

The night progressed, shots were drank, and bottles were downed to the last drop. 

[One thousand pink balloons]

You were leaning back on the booth as they continued to talk about a story you couldn't care less about. The alcohol may have burned your throat but they can't burn up all the pain in your chest. The dress you wore, the makeup that took you 2 hours to do, the place you waited months to get a reservation for-- they all went to waste.

[DJ with your favorite tunes]

It was already some time after 11 and yet the seat in front of you remained empty. The DJ had played music you had requested him to play multiple times during the night only for the sole purpose that Bucky would hear it. Why? Maybe because you overheard him talking about it to Sam.

[Birthday cake in August, but you were born nineteenth of July]

[Champagne pourin' in your mouth]

You drowned yourself shot after shot all while Natasha and the rest of The Avengers trying to stop you but unfortunately for them, your stubbornness is enhanced more when you're drunk.

[Called your friends from out of town]

The booth where The Avengers was sitting was nowhere close to stopping drinking just like how Bucky was nowhere to be found. An hour ago, Steve had already made it to the bar but alone, no sign of Bucky. An unfamiliar ache pierced through your heart as you covered it up with drinking more alcohol. You were already used to this so why did it hurt now? 

[Got the party bag with the purple pills]

With another raise of your hand, you ordered more beer, more shots, and more alcohol to be placed on your table. Better to drown your sorrows now, right?

[And I'm waiting for you by the window]

[Called your digits but the phone kept ringing]

You hastily grabbed your phone from your pocket, almost dropping it as you pulled it out. You blinked multiple times, trying to focus as you inputted your password. As if out of habit, your thumb immediately clicked on the icon of the messages app and instinctively at Bucky's contact.

[Wish I knew what you were thinking]

You stared at your phone for a good 5 minutes before typing a poorly written message for him. Satisfied at what you wrote, you sent the message before turning your phone off.

[Hope you walk in the party]

You pushed your phone back to your pocket, or so you thought. You divert your attention to the entrance door as it remains untouched without a trace of Bucky. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to calm yourself down.

You only threw this party to get noticed by him, but he didn't even pop in for a minute. 

[Cause I threw the party just for you.]

Feeling sick to your stomach, you excused yourself as you made your way to the door that leads to the rooftop to get fresh air. Wasted, you stumbled your way to the door and pushed it open as you were greeted with a cold breeze.

Your eyes were basically closing as you walked to the railings and enjoyed the little peace up there all while the muffled songs from the DJ Stand continued playing behind you. You held yourself with both your hands holding the railing.

All the city lights were blurry in your eyes and before you knew it, tears started to roll down your eyes. The unfamiliar feeling of the tears made you confused as you held up one of your hands to touch your wet cheek.

A short laugh escaped your mouth out of disbelief as you inhaled a sharp breath. You hated this unfamiliar feeling, loathed it even.  You were confused as to why everything was happening, confused why you're so affected, confused why out of everyone-- it just had to be him.

It wasn't long until you leaned against the railing, your eyes drying up as the tears that left them slowly dry up due to the cold air of the night sky. Despite the continuous shots you've taken, you found yourself slowly sobering up yet still a bit tipsy.

You took notice of the sound of the rooftop door opening then closing. You wished it was a random staff who'd ignore you because if it was anyone else you knew, your peace would be interrupted. The unknown figure stopped a few inches far from your right as they too gazed at the city lights under them.

You didn't take your eyes off of the view and ignored the presence of the individual beside you, thinking that they also wanted peace. Yet that peace was interrupted when you looked at your peripheral and saw a familiar metal arm leaning against the metal railings of the rooftop.

"Bucky?" You breathed out as you raised your head to look at the unknown-known individual beside you.

[Party on you...]

part 2??

[prettypieck]

𝒮𝑜 𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sylus x Reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Sylus gets bored and kidnaps reader who is upset with him and they basically have angry and not so angry sex.

ᴀ/ɴ: I'm so gagged by the amount of love I received for Xaviers Cam Girl!! Part 2 coming soon for that one, but for now I'll give ya'll this quick one I came up with lol. Thank you guys again <3

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Sylus, Sylus smut, love and deepspace smut, MDNI!, oral(female receiving), unprotected, light fingering, p in v, kinda angry sex kinda not, Sylus is freaked the freaked out, so am I...

You got lost. 

The house was huge and with so many hallways and doors it was easy to forget which way you came and where to go. It was annoying, but not as annoying as the man who brought you here. Or more accurately kidnapped you from your apartment and is holding you hostage here.

Sylus… the man who owned the N109 Zone and practically everyone in it.

You hadn't seen him since you both had an argument and that should make you feel at ease, but you weren’t, knowing how persistent he could be, you were sure he had to be planning something. That was the part that scared you most, although being around someone as dangerous and intimidating as him also sent a shiver up your spine, at least you would usually have the presence of the young, deviant twins.

But in the couple days you've been here, you haven't seen them, which is a first. The only person you can blame for that is Sylus himself, you could definitely feel that he sent them away on some long mission to force you to fold and speak to him, but no way. You were stubborn.

You continue walking down a dark hallway until you make it to the door at the end of it. You sigh, it was either go back the way you came or through the door. 

You take your chances and twist the knob open. The lights flicker on as soon as the door opens, but it was still very dim lighting. Shelves line the walls from the floor to the ceiling with bottles of wine. There's an island in the middle of the room with drawers of them as well. 

It's a wine cellar. 

You enter the room and begin snooping around. You love wine, a trait you inherited from your grandmother. Since you were thirteen, she would let you sit with her in bed and have a glass while watching one of her shows. You feel your heart ache again at the memory, you didn't even get to say goodbye to her. 

You don't have a phone either, but maybe you’ll be the first to break the silence between Sylus and you to request to use one. Although you would rather never talk to him ever again. 

You finally find a wine that you think is good enough for your late night movie you plan to watch in your bedroom. You stand on the tips of your toes as it was placed on one of the higher shelves and your fingers barely skim the rim of the top before you feel it. 

The firmness and warmth of a strong chest against your back and your heart jumps out of shock. You don't move as a hand bigger and stronger than your own surpasses you and grabs the wine bottle that you were attempting to reach. It only takes a second to recognize the large hand that has touched you before.

You don't say a word or turn around to face him, you rest back on your heels again but that only pushes your body more against his. As you’re about to take a step forward and away from him, he has other plans. 

You feel his hand begin to skim where your short sleeping gown begins on your left thigh until he drags upwards and settles his hand on your stomach. His touch burning through the thin dress and slightly lifting it.

Then his raspy voice breaks the silence, "What are you doing in here?"

You couldn't breathe yet, but still reply quietly, "Grabbing something to drink."

He hums in response and begins to skim his lips against your right ear and down towards your neck. You still feel stuck, and you hate that your body wants to feel him. You clench your eyes shut and once you feel his tongue peek out when he places a single kiss behind your ear does your whole body wake up. 

You quickly grab his hand, pry it off you and turn around to face him with the strongest glare you could muster. However, it's hard to hold the look on your face when your body feels like it's burning up from his actions. And it's even harder when you look up at his beautiful face. 

His red eyes were darker than usual as he gazed down at you with a look that made your heart race. He had grown slight stubble and his hair was slightly messy as if he ran his hand through it multiple times. He was dressed in all black, the button up shirt showed the chain on his chest  and his sleeves were rolled up.

He looked like Lucifer himself, a complete contrast to your all white slip gown. An angel, and the devil with temptation written all over him.

And it's as if he knows because his lip slightly curls up in a smirk as he takes you in. 

"You thirsty, kitten," it didn't sound like he was asking a question and the way he purrs your nickname doesn’t make the fluttering in your lower belly any better. You can sense the double meaning in the way he purposely speaks his words.

"No," you try to harden your voice, but even you can't stop it from sounding so soft and flustered, "I think I want water instead now-" you try to bypass his side and evacuate the room as soon as possible, but stop as soon as he grabs your arm. 

"Don't be so quick to leave," he says, his voice slightly huskier now.

You try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you can't seem to find your voice to protest. He pulls you closer to him, your body now pressed against his. You tilt your head up at him and give him a hard glare, "Sylus whatever you think you're doing is-" your voice catches in your throat and your hands grip his arms when he lifts you with ease and plants you on the island.

Your legs dangle over the edge as he moves forward and stands between them. "And what is it that I'm doing," he asks with an amused smile and places his hands on either side of your hips, effectively trapping you in. 

The heat of his stare feels too much for you, your breathing becoming shallow. You wait for his next move, as he slowly grabs the wine bottle placed on the counter next to your hip and pops it open. He holds eye contact with you as he takes a swig of it, but there's something so provocative in the way he does it.

You hum, yet you can't seem to focus on what he's on about. "Not leaving me alone?" Not when he's far too distracting.

You can't seem to take your eyes off how the neck of the bottle looks so small in his perfectly sized hand, or how his lips, plump and pink look so perfectly wet as he wraps them around the lip of the bottle. And then there are his eyes. Hypnotically red, dazed and lazy as he watches you with his head slightly tipped back and his throat bobbing as he chases the wine down with nothing but his words delivered in a harsh breath. "I did leave you alone, now I don't want to."

You flicker your gaze up to him, "Well, go give your company to someone else." You murmur, reaching for the bottle suddenly parched.

He lifts it over his head, effortlessly out of your reach, and towers over you. Narrowing your eyes up at him, you speak up again. "That's my bottle."

His tongue peeks out to trace the drop of wine left on his lower lip, "Is it?"

"Yes?"

"No, the bottle is mine, and you're mine." He murmurs with the swaying of his body as he leans into you.

You debate shutting the fuck up, knowing better than to egg on a man who finds murder more appealing than smiling, but on the other hand, the man deserves every bit of torture for treating you the way he's been.

And so, you bite your lip so seriously he has no choice but to focus on your mouth as you respond, "I'm actually someone else's-"

Another tug of your gown and you're so close, you can feel his breath tickle your forehead. It's too controlled and still to be normal. "You're really fucking annoying." He doesn't give you a chance to respond. Not when his hand fisting your nightgown creeps up to grab your jaw, and with a harsh push, he's tilting your head back and tipping the bottle into your mouth.

He forces the drink into your mouth, and down your throat. While he stares down at you with heat and jealousy burning his eyes. "They're as good as dead, if what you say is true."

You don't respond, you can't with the wine sliding down your throat. Instead, you both stare at each other, until you can't take it and close your mouth, swallowing the mouthful of wine before you choke on it. Only that doesn't seem to stop him from pouring.

"What the fuck!" You snap.

"Oops." His voice is far too dry and his gaze far too pointed as he places the bottle down next to you with more than half of it done. Some spilled and trailed down from your chin and in between your breasts.

Your dress stuck to your skin from the amount of the wine that spilled on you. You couldn't let Sylus have the upper hand, so the only way was to torture him even more. You reach down to the hem of your gown and slowly pull it up and over your head, leaving you in only your panties. Then, you reach over and grab the bottle, bringing it to your lips and begin to drink it.

But you only get a sip before he reaches over and manages to take the wine from your hand, but instead of bringing it to his own mouth, he grips your chin, tips your head back again and pours it into your mouth for the second time.

This time when you close your mouth to swallow the mouthful, a stream of wine splashes down your bare chest to your stomach. Sylus eventually straightens out but his eyes follow the path. Vivid red eyes travel down the valley of your breasts, past your sternum and then to your belly button and lower. His eyes linger impulsively, while yours watch expectantly.

So expectantly that you lean back on the palms of your hands, a silent invitation. Maybe its the circumstances, or just the strong wine in both your bloodstreams, but he plants his hands on the marble on either side of you, and lowers his mouth until it meets your skin, suddenly so desperate and hot for his touch. He's slow, deliberate, thorough, while those eyes stay glued to your face.

His lips barely brush as his tongue darts out to follow the trail down and it's only when he gets to the crevice where your breasts are that his lips move from a soft caress to a purposeful hunger. He sucks the swell of your breast, licks any drop of wine before moving lower and grazing his teeth over your nipple. It hardens instantly.

It isn't long before he pulls back enough to drag his gaze down to them, while one of his hands slide up and his thumb begins to gently graze the skin back and forth. You exhale a harsh breath, he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth seemingly lost in thought. "They're sensitive." It's a low rasp. One thats more observant, meant for himself than anything.

"I'm just cold." You breathe, still now wanting to give him any satisfaction.

"Yeah?" he murmurs against your burning skin, and when you don't offer a response, he merely hums and trails his lips down the path of your sternum and finally to your belly button where he sucks the wine around it into his mouth.

Instinctively, you fall further back, onto your elbows as he trails down further, stopping when he gets to the band of your panties. He hovers, lingers. You tilt your head down after a long moment, anticipation stirring in your stomach, for what, you don't know. All you know is that he'd barely touched you and the wet trail down your leg that wasn't from the wine was only making you want it more.

"Sylus?" You get out, he merely tips his head and looks up at you. It does nothing to help the ache between your legs. "What are you thinking?"

The man contemplates answering you for a brief moment, before he does, in a low breath, "you taste so sweet, I want to taste more of you."

You debate your next words, until you can't help the simple breathless sound that leaves you, "Oh." His gaze sharpens with an intensity you can only describe as suffocatingly overbearing, controlled, yet persistent.

"Do you want that Kitten?" Something heavy sits behind his words, a dark something that sits itself right between your legs as you subtly clench them together. He must notice with the way his eyes flicker down at the action.

You swallow thickly, and cant help the way your face feels so hot, it's embarrassing. "Yes." He shows no reaction, but you still can't help the embarrassed flush at admitting it to him. You feel it when his eyes watch you and you feel it when his hands brush your hips, and he hooks his fingers in the band of your underwear, slowly dragging them down your legs, despite how hard you're clenching them.

He gets them off, and sets his gaze on the most intimate part of you, while you're not only shaking in anticipation and need, but nervousness. His hands move to your thighs where his thumbs draw little circles on your skin, "Spread your legs."

He looks over you, his broad shoulders and tall build doing nothing to help the way he swallows your shadow whole. Yet it only takes one look at him for you to comply. You realize you want it badly. So badly, you spread your legs for him. Slowly, his gaze moves down to between them.

There's a subtle change to his breathing and you see it in the way his chest begins to heave while his eyes flicker to every part of you and his hand slides up until he's ghosting his thumb over your clit.

He pauses and looks up at you. "Now, say please." Every color save for red drains from your face as it burns, yet you manage a glare. "No way-"

He spits down onto your pussy and uses his thumb to rub it into your clit. The action so fasts it steals every last breath from your lungs. That is until he circles it once, twice and stops after the third. He raises a brow at you. "How about now?"

Your legs shake, your mind races and it takes everything in you to grit out a reluctant and obvious forced, "please."

"There you go, baby." His lips move to your inner thigh, and you can swear you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" A retort sits on the tip of your tongue, but it's drowned out by a gasp so loud, you can do nothing but fall back onto the island when Sylus dips his head and buries his face between your legs.

His lips latch onto you, instantly finding your clit with ease. He sucks, it's so good, but when his tongue peeks out and flattens against you, you can't help but shudder. "Holy f-fuck." Whether it's a moan or a desperate cry that comes out of your mouth, you don't know.

The sensation is like no other.

His tongue is warm yet firm in its movements, his lips are soft yet so precise when he sucks and then there are his hands, so possessive as he grips onto your thighs holding you down before they flatten over your stomach and pin you down from there.

Another moan escapes your lips as your head falls back against the marble counter and your back arches. He makes a satisfied noise, so deep it rumbles through your core, while you writhe, moan, and fall at his mercy. It feels like an eternity of pleasure, one where the man doesn't bother coming up for air and one he's lost in. But you don't complain.

Not until he pulls away and glances up at you, his gaze dazed and lips swollen. "Does that feel good baby?"

"So so good, Sylus." You nod, squirming beneath him, needing and panting. "Don't stop." Desperation reeks in your voice, but it only seems to turn him on, and you realize that this man could very well be the death of you.

You thread your fingers into his hair just as he settles back in between your legs and when he grunts at your grip, the sound is so raw and deep, you feel it course through you. He's meticulous as the tip of his tongue glides from clit all the way down your slit, and had it not been for his hands holding you in place, you would be a mess.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, you push his face deeper into you and you're surprised he's still breathing enough to groan into you as you grind into him, crying out when he moves back up to flick your clit, then suck on it.

"Fuck," there's a tremble to your voice, and it only worsens when his tongue trails back down to your opening and traces it not once, twice but a third, while his perfect nose nudges your clit with each grind of your hips.

You begin to shake uncontrollably, only for him to pull back slightly and stare between your legs while he spreads your lower lips with his fingers, and then dives back in, thrusting his tongue into you.

"I'm…" breathy and panting, your eyes shut in bliss. "Close." Fingers fisting his hair, you tug, cry out as your mouth falls open. Despite your deepest fantasies of men, you had begun to realize that nothing came close to a man skilled with his tongue. But Sylus? Every single fibre of his being drips with skill like no other.

It's so clear in the way he lifts you by the hips to get a better angle as he thrusts his tongue into you. His movements harsh, deep, and with little remorse. You moan out into the room. He groans into you.

It builds, like a never ending ascend, until finally you crash, and explode. And when you do, the cry is loud, while your cum spills onto his tongue.

Sylus doesn't pull away, nor does he stop. His mouth sucks and licks every last drop of your release while you're so overstimulated, you can't help but writhe beneath him, and yank his hair until he finally pulls away.

He rises up to his full height and perhaps you're both drunk on the wine or high off each other, but he can't seem to take his eyes off you, and you can't look away from him.

He's still standing at the edge of the counter, between your legs while his hands hold your shaking thighs open. But it's clear he's turned on. His chest heaves and the look on his face tells you he's almost enraptured by the sight of you.

He's still looking at you when his hand on your thigh moves and he trails his thumb down your slit before tracing your opening. You exhale, he looks down. You gasp as he pushes his thumb in.

Still coming down from your high, pussy still oversensitive, but the sight of him, standing above you and staring down at you like you're what he wants is the most torturous.

He doesn't push his thumb all the way in, he merely pushes in an inch and then pulls out, moving in and out, the movement almost absentminded until finally his gaze slides to his hand between your legs. "You're just begging to be stretched, yeah?"

His words are hoarse, filled with desire and something much darker. It gets so much harder to compose yourself. His lips still drip with your cum and when he's standing like this, your eyes are drawn to the imprint of him, hard and so big.

You lick your dry lips, "Yes please, I want it Sy."

Your response captures his attention enough to where his hand leaves you, and instead moves to absentmindedly rub over the bulge in his pants. "Then let me fuck you." He breathes.

It's such an erotic sight, especially coming from a man who is always so composed, so in control, so reserved. But now, as he rubs himself over his slacks, he looks at you like the sole reason he's feeling an ounce of desperation. Like making you cum satisfied him as much as it did you.

Despite every ounce of energy drained from your previous orgasm, you feel yourself clench, desperate for more. The throbbing between your legs pulses louder and you realize you want him to fuck you more than anything. But you're nearly naked and he's fully clothed.

And it's the clank of his belt coming undone that snaps you back into reality. You sit up and place a hand on his chest. "Take off your shirt, first." You slowly trickle your gaze from his button up to his face.

"Take it off for me, Kitten." You do so, flickering your gaze away from the intensity in his and focusing on each strip of skin you see as you get each button undone. You toss it somewhere behind you, far too distracted by the sight of him to care where it lands.

He's every bit as fit as you'd imagined. Toned arms, shoulders corded with muscles and abdomen so lean, It suddenly makes sense how he's so strong. He's built like it.

Something in his posture gives out, his hand moves up to grip your throat, while his lips find the skin just below your ear. "Are you happy now?"

"Maybe." You breathe, scraping your fingers along his abdomen, loving the way he tenses before goosebumps break out all over his body. "Are you?"

"Not even close." His hot breath tickles your ear while he pulls you to the edge and spits his confession in a frustrated tone, "I want to be inside you."

You smile and realize you like him like this. Raw, real and not bothering to hide behind a mask of indifference. You realize he must take your silence as not a good enough answer because with even more force, the man pulls you to the edge of the counter and undoes his zipper.

"I'll give you what you want kitten, only if you stop this game you're playing at." His lips press to your ear, as he steps into you.

You smile, "Probably not." His response comes a moment later, dragged up your thigh and settled between your legs.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop from letting him know just how much you feel him and the tip of his cock that he drags up and down your slit. And instead, focus on the fact that Sylus has got it bad for you. So bad, he can't seem to shut up.

He pulls back and tips his head down to focus on the space between both of you, where he begins to circle his tip around your clit in tortuously slow movements, until you're withering for more.

He pauses and clenches his jaw, "You gonna let me fuck you, like I've wanted to since you've been here?"

You wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself into him, "If you're that desperate, then go ahead-"

You barely have time to finish your sentence before he's circling your entrance and thrusting himself into you. It's hard, fast and before you can even catch your breath, his entire length slides between your folds, and right into you.

Instinctively, you squeeze around him, and the deep masculine noise of satisfaction that escapes his throat echos in your ear. "Fuck." Nails into skin, you realize you're digging your nails into his shoulders, while he pauses only for a second to murmur low in your ear. "All of it." He commands, using the grip on your hips to pull you into him. Groaning when you realize he's not in all the way. "Take it all."

He's ruthless when he pulls you into him, and you can't help the noises that escape your lips when he fills you up. "That's it." He murmurs. It's painful, but the kind that has you moaning and despite yourself, wanting more of him until there's nothing left to give.

Biting down on your bottom lip as he fills you, so deep inside you don't know what to do with yourself but tremble. It only lasts a second before he releases your bottom lip with his fingers, and then shoves his thumb into your mouth to keep it open. "I like the shit that comes out of your mouth when I'm inside you baby." He rasps, voice breathless as though it's hard for him to remain still. "Don't suppress it."

Exhaling a shaky breath, you bite down on his thumb all the while shifting around him to get comfortable. He's ruthless. Especially when he pulls out of you and slams right back in, but this time when he does it, a mix of a gasp and a groan of surprise escapes your lips.

He pulls his finger out of your mouth while his voice takes on a serious, yet curious edge. "What's wrong?"

You catch your breath. "Nothing." you exhale, slightly embarrassed. "It just… you're big" He stills, his voice strained, while the muscles in his arms flex as though it's taking everything in him to still.

Instinctually, you grind your hips, inching closer to him. He groans when you shift to get comfortable, exhaling a long breath, one that makes him pause. "Am I hurting you?"

And when you slowly roll your hips forward, his head tips back and a tremor floats through his body as though it's physically impossible for him to stay still. "Give me a second to get comfortable."

Pained and strained, the man sounds like he's seconds from losing his control when he speaks next, "You're killing me baby." You sift once more, and when the pain starts to feel like the type you get off on, you grind into him, arch your back and moan against his lips. "Fuck me."

It's purely relief that powers his next movements, because without another word, Sylus fucks you like he hates you. It's ruthless, borderline cruel yet makes you so delirious, your eyes roll back and you moan into his ear.

His skin heats yours, his fingers thread into your hair and he yanks your head back, his mouth not leaving any inch of your neck untouched while he pounds into you.

He's completely unrestrained when he sucks a path down to your chest, he's completely wild when he bites enough to sting before soothing the skin with a few wet glides of his tongue. But most of all, he's completely merciless with each slam of his hips into yours. You realize it's your favorite version of him.

It's embarrassing how fast that now too familiar feeling starts to build. It's all immensely earth shattering. His low noises, his rough hands, his firm body.

He's everywhere, while you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. He must sense that you're close because with a harsh grunt, the man leans you over until your back is against the cold marble of the Island and he slows his movements. "Not yet."

A choked groan escapes your lips while your head tips to the side and your body begins to give out. "What do you want now?"

His hands slide up to rest on the marble on either side of your head, while he leans over and picks up his pace, not nearly as fast as before though. "I want you to say you're mine."

Each languid stroke somehow jolts your clit at this angle, while he remains to hit so deep you wonder if he's rearranging your organs.

"Mmhm." You mumble, arching your back and running your nails down his chest.

"Say it." His command is hoarse, and so fucking hot you want to drop to your knees and give him what he wants, that is until he bites your nipple, so hard, you have to grit your teeth.

"You serious?" A frustrated noise escapes your throat as you glare up at him. He lowers his face until his lips nearly brush yours and the crazed look in his eyes grows depraved. "Dead serious."

"Fine." This didn't actually mean you were committing to him. It was nothing more than two people chasing a high. That's why you give in to his ridiculous demand.

Only when you do it, your body has a mind of its own when you wrap your arms around his neck and lift up enough to place a single kiss on his lips. "Sylus, I promise to fuck you and only you."

Something inside you stirs at the thought of living in a fantasy where you were his and only his, forever. "Good girl." He groans, and when his heavy breathing hits the skin of your temple, it feels almost… sweet.

You swallow thickly, when his lips brush there. "I'm really not."

"It's rare." He chuckles, it's low and hoarse, the sound enough to make you cum at a time like this. "But when you are, it's only for me."

He sounds far too satisfied, but you don't question it when his palm finds your throat and he holds you down before pounding into you with a newfound rigor. It starts to build again, stronger than before and with each trust of his thick length, you move higher.

But you're not the only one lost in your own pleasure.

The man's movements turn erratic, and he buries his face into your chest while a thick stream of what you can only assume to be curses sit against your damp skin.

You explode before he does with a loud cry, arching your back and pushing your chest further into his face when his groan vibrates through you.

He doesn't stop though, and it's only after you're overstimulated with a dragged out orgasm, do you feel his length jerk and feel his come as he somehow manages to pull out and come all over your stomach.

You're utterly dazed as you watch the man come. His is head tipped back, his broad shoulders dropped and lips slightly parted as a sound you can only classify as a low moan escapes in a dragged out breath. His bare chest is gleaming in a layer of sweat, while the man himself looks far more powerful than any other you'd laid eyes on.

And when he gazes down at you, it's as though he's made you his. Part of you wants it, the other part is afraid of it. He drags his fingers across your stomach, coating them in his release before bringing them up to the seam of your lips and pushing them into your mouth. No hesitation. No permission.

It's so carnal and hot you can't help but lick his fingers clean, fueling that satisfied gleam until he pulls his fingers out and steps back and tucks himself back into his boxers, but doesn't bother to do up his slacks and belt as it sits open against his hips.

You can do nothing but lay there and watch as he reaches for a small white hand towel, wets it with warm water and uses it to clean your stomach, then another one for between your legs.

He's surprisingly gentle, and not surprisingly throughout, not missing an inch of skin. It's not long before he has you wearing his button up as he carries you bridal style to what you assumed was your room, but turned out to be his instead. Maybe you didn't have to fantasize about Sylus and you together, maybe he meant what he said.

And is if he can read the look on your face, he only says two words that reassure you, "You're mine."

[satrs]

Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [..."how would each lads guy react if you come up to them and adjust their collar saying "You got no one to do this for you?" ] ¡! ❞

✎ A/N;LUVVVV THIS NONNIE!!! MY GOSHHHH OK SO LISTENNNNN

"You got no one to do this for you?"

-‘๑’-

Okay so XAVIER will be confused at first, saying smt along the lines of "..No...? Do I... need to?", but will take it for grated from that point onward.

When he's at your place getting dressed in his work attire, he'll walk up to you with his collar undone, blankly staring at you until you repeat your service from the first time.

You're not even safe when your in the shower, he'll half scare you to death as he slides the curtain open, standing before you like a lost puppy.

That's it. You're his personal collar adjuster now. But don't be mad at him when he bursts into the room while you're sleeping, craning his head to your level as he watches you fiddle your hands on his collar with that grumpy expression on your face!

You've done this upon yourself!

ZAYNE The moment your fingers touch his collar, Zayne stiffens.

His muscles tense, like he’s about to pull away on reflex. He'll spurt out something like "What the hell are you doing?" is sooo embarrassed.

He'll probably want to return the favor somehow. He'll watch you put on your hunter gear, eyes scanning for something to help you out with.

It'll be so forced and obvious that he wants to pay you back for that small gesture you offered him, that you almost regret doing it in the first place.

"Oh here, your hair-tie."

"Zayne, my hair is already tied up."

"Wait. Did you drink enough water? Ate enough?"

"Sighh. Zayne, we literally just had breakfast together."

RAFAYEL is insufferable. In capital letters. Bold. Underlined.

There's a fat grin plastered on his face and you just know you'll never hear the end of it ever again.

He lets you do your thing, standing completely still, but you can feel his stare boring into you. Intense, amused, obnoxious. He tries—tries— to cover his flustered expression with that damn smirk, but the way his ears tint the faintest pink gives him away.

"Hm. So attentive, should I be flattered?"

He'll also bring it up any chance he gets, especially when your mad at him.

"Oh yeah? you're mad? But didn't you adjust my collar the other day?"

"Rafayel, that was two weeks ago."

He shrugs, completely unbothered. "And? Still happened."

Arghhh, he’s so childish.

Now SYLUS... my god.

He's so ridiculously smooth with it, quick to turn the tables on you.

"Hm, you're offering?" he'll edge you into a corner, loosening his tie again on purpose. "Because if you are, you can take care of more than just my tie."

His voice is smooth, honeyed, but there's a wicked glint in his crimson eyes— one that tells you he’s already enjoying this way too much.

He dips his head, his voice turning hushed, silky-smooth. "So? Gonna fix me up again, darling? Or would you rather..." His fingers brush just under your chin, tilting your face up ever so slightly. "...let me keep coming undone for you?"

Oh he lovesss teasing you.

CALEB's heart will skips a beat. He'll fall in love all over again.

After you've fixed his tie and maybe even placed the hat onto the colonel's heads, you're met with his awestruck expression, heart-eyes staring you down with an agape mouth.

No snarky remarks, no smirk, nothing. Just his empty faces staring holes into you.

"U-uhhhhh..."

"Caleb you have to go, you're five minutes late already."

"Uh-huh."

He's still stuck, as if his mind short-circuited (it probably did).

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[dolcecherub]

Don’t Cha ༊*·˚

❥ pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

❥ tags: op81, drunk!reader a little, pining and heartbreak, happy ending, angst, some other stuff lol

❥ yap: had a burst of energy and wrote this in a few hours, based on this lovely request here!! hope it’s as good as you hoped anon, and I hope y’all enjoy <3

❥ word count: 2.5k

The bar is dimly lit, the lights low and warm, filtering through cheap string bulbs, fluorescent neon lights and half-sipped cocktails. Bodies moulding against each other to the bass you felt thrumming through your chest.

It’s the kind of place that you go to pretend, escape if you will.

It had been a long weekend, the Miami Grand Prix having been exciting yet tiring for you and the rest of the McLaren team. A few people from engineering and the PR team decided it was worth the celebration, and who were you to decline?

And so you found yourself tucked into a little, off-the-curb bar in Miami, swaying your hips to the sound of a strong bass and some bad karaoke. Your cheeks flushed with heat, and the alcohol coursing through you. A velvet dress clung to your body, makeup light to avoid sweating it off in the Miami heat, and a cute pair of black heels. You told yourself you dressed up simply for your own pleasure. Your mind catches the lie as he walks in. 

You pretend not to notice him.

You’re far enough away to pretend you don’t see them.

Pretend not to acknowledge the way your chest tightens seeing his arm around her. Your hand grips your glass tightly as his eyes catch yours, dark and curious.

You feel your body flush at his gaze. You didn’t expect him to show up, but you suppose Lando told him about the group’s plans. You tell yourself it’s always about the group.

You see Lando walk up to him, hand on his back, greeting him as they chat. Taking a final sip of your drink, you place it on the bar counter before rejoining some of the girls, pushing Oscar away from the forefront of your mind, unsuccessfully.

Your eyes can’t help but wander back to him as you dance, his arm around her shoulder bringing her closer as he places a kiss on the crown of her head, your heart clenching.

She’s always there, always. The girlfriend he always brings to race weekend, who doesn’t know tyre strategy or how he gets quiet and fidgety before qualifying. The one who barely smiles for him and rather only for the cameras.

It’s torture watching them.

It’s as if he knows you’re watching him, maybe he does, perhaps that’s why he refuses to look at you now.

You pretend it doesn’t hurt.

You feel a hand grab your arm, pulling you closer to the karaoke area, one of the girls, Ella, dragging you away.

“Come on,” your friend hisses, half-drunk and fearless, holding the karaoke list in one hand like it’s a challenge. “You have to sing,” she pleads, “One song, you know, the song.” She yells over the noise of the club.

Your eyes flick back to Oscar. You shake your head, “Not tonight.” She follows your eyes, pinpointing the exact shift in your mood, and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be boring, just do the song.” She drags, pushing you forward as she gets up to talk to the DJ manning the karaoke station. “The Pussycat Dolls one,” she says, eyes sparkling with malice. “You know, the one that makes men cry and women rage.”

Your smile is bitter, “Subtle.” You laugh sarcastically.

“And that’s what makes it perfect!” Ella giggles.

You glance back at Oscar. He’s nursing a drink as his girl chats to another, skillfully ignoring him aside from the physical contact.

Something snaps in you. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the sweet ache in your chest that never goes away when you’re near him. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks miserable, that even with her beside him, he looks utterly alone. Maybe it’s the sheer, desperate desire to make him feel something, anything directed at you.

You scrawl down your name on the paper, the pen scratching aggressively against the cheap paper as Ella cheers triumphantly.

“You’re evil,” You mutter lovingly, a subtle smile on your face.

“I try my best,” she grins. “Now make him suffer.”

When the host calls your name, you slide onto the stage like a secret. Your velvet dress clings to your body viciously, leaving nothing to the imagination as a few boys holler at you.

The music starts before you’re fully ready, but then again, you’ve been ready for months. The opening beats slink through the bar like smoke. It’s sultry and confident, everything you claim to feel on the outside, a thin veneer over the raw, exposed nerve beneath.

A few heads turn, some hollering at the song choice, and others focusing on you. His head turns, eyes locking with yours as you sing through the first verse, body swaying to the beat, hands roaming your body as you put on a show.

Oscar freezes, utterly and completely dumbfounded. The blankness in his eyes is replaced by a sudden, intense focus that pins you to the spot.

♪I know you like me (I know you like me)♪

♪I know you do (I know you do)♪

♪That’s why whenever I come around, she’s all over you♪

You bite out the lyrics, eyes still stuck on him as he licks his lips. You sing it like the truth, audience blurring around him, his arm loosening from around her shoulder.

♪And I know you want it (I know you want it)♪

♪It’s easy to see (It’s easy to see)♪

♪And in the back of your mind, I know you should be fuckin’ with me♪

The lyrics purr through the speakers, thick with implication, his jaw ticking. The words hanging in the air, undeniable, a public accusation.

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me♪

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like?

You sing it with purpose, a fake smile plastered on your face as you perform, only for him. Every word is deliberate, he looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

♪Don’t cha? Don’t cha, baby♪

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?♪

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?♪

You hear Ella sing alongside you, eyes still locked on Oscar. His arm drops from her shoulder, his girlfriend finally noticing, nudging him lightly.

♪Fight the feeling (fight the feeling)♪

♪Leave it alone (Leave it alone)♪

♪‘Cause if it ain’t love, It just ain’t enough to leave a happy home (uh-uh, uh-uh)♪

You watch her lean in to say something to him, lips close to his ears, trying to grasp his attention. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t hear her. Because you’re still singing, and he’s watching. His mind aches to look away, and somehow he can’t, his gaze locked on yours with a mixture of shock, recognition, and something raw and painful.

♪Let’s keep it friendly (Let’s keep it friendly)♪

♪You have to play fair (you have to play fair, yeah)♪

♪See I don’t care but I know she ain’t gonna wanna share (Ah, ah-ah)♪

The words are claws, real and cruel. Only because they’re true. It’s not just a song anymore.

It’s a declaration.

You see the tension in his jaw as she looks at him, confused, then irritated. You keep going, disregarding her actions as you sway, a few hollers coming from the dance floor.

♪…I’d probably be just as crazy about you if you were my own man♪

The lyric bites with truth, your voice dipping lower as you finish off the last chorus.

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? (Oh)

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? (Like me)

Don't cha? Don't cha, baby? Don't cha?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me? (Raw)

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me? (Big fun)

Don't cha? (Ah-ah-ah), don't cha?

The final lyric lingers like a question in the air between you.

By the time you finish, the bar erupts. Whistles and applause, you see Ella cheering you and Lando cupping his mouth as he yells out encouragingly. Some guy at the front was shouting something, drunk and appreciative. You finish with a defiant smile, the mic stand your only support as your heart hammers a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

You slink off the small stage, heart pounding. But your eyes are still on him, and his are burning. With what, you don’t know. Anger? Guilt? Desire? Maybe all of it. You yell to Ella that you’re stepping out for air.

You’re outside before he can reach you.

The air bites at your skin, a slight breeze nipping at you, a sharp contrast to the smoky warmth of the club, your pulse still racing from the performance. You needed space, just a breather alone, you think, running a haphazard hand through your hair.

You barely get two minutes of it before you hear footsteps; you know they’re his.

Oscar finds you, your head whipping around to see him walking towards you, quick and purposeful. He stops a few feet away, hand tousling his hair before he crosses them.

“That was a hell of a choice,” he says, voice low and rough. It’s not an accusation, but it sure as hell isn’t praise either.

You turn completely towards him, the biting air making your eyes water slightly. “It’s just a song, didn’t think you’d really notice.” You snap.

He scoffs, bitter as he rolls his eyes, a sour smirk crossing his face. “Hard not to, you were singing it at me.”

“Maybe I was,” you say aggressively. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending like I understand what’s happening.” You admit, arms wrapping around yourself subconsciously.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “What is happening, then?”

You stare at him, your chest aching to get closer. His eyes are locked onto yours, glassy and dark, his expression grim. “You tell me, Oscar. You’re the one who calls me when you’re upset or you’ve crashed. The one who finds me in a crowd, like I’m the only place you recognize. The one who looks at me like you’re drowning and I’m your last breath of air. And yet you’re still with her.” You spit, emotions wracking you as you admit your confusion,

He flinches. It’s subtle, but you notice. You always notice.

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” he says, breath catching. You shake your head at his misunderstanding.

“You didn’t drag me into anything, I ran to you. Every single time, I picked up when you called, let you talk to me like she wasn’t right there. I ran straight into it because it was you. It’s always been you.” You confess, voice breaking near the end as you look away.

Silence.

The air between you is thick, suffocating with unspoken words. You continue, “But you’re not mine to want, are you?” It’s a statement, not a question.

He grabs your wrist, pulling your arms away from your body as he steps closer. His fingers are warm against your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as warmth radiates off of him in the breeze.

“She doesn’t get it,” he says hoarsely. His voice is low and strained. “She never did,” He clarifies, his grip tightening. “She doesn’t understand. Racing. You. Me-”

“Don’t,” you whisper, interrupting him, heart cracking at his words. The words are a plea. “Don’t say it unless you’re going to do something about it.” Your chest rises and falls fast as you lightly gasp for air.

A beat. Then another. “Why are you still with her?” You ask quietly, as if the question will break him. He swallows, a shift in his eyes, the way something finally breaks.

“I’m not, I ended it,” He says quickly, voice shaking. The words are almost lost in the breeze, but you hear them perfectly. “Just now, after your song. She stormed out.” He spoke quietly.

Your breath catches. You stare at him, stunned. “You what?” You asked breathlessly, needing the confirmation again.

“I should’ve done it months ago,” He confesses, his voice stronger now, relief washing over him. “But I kept lying to myself. Telling myself it was easier. That I wasn’t already in love with someone else.”

Your heart trips, a frantic drum in your chest as his words settle in. “Say it again,” You plead, heart aching to hear the words, the confirmation that this isn’t just some sick joke.

He steps closer confidently, the streetlights casting a shadow across his face, emphasizing his features in a way that makes your head spin. “I’m in love with you.” He says, clear as day, as if no wind were strong enough to carry those words away from you.

“Every time I see you, I try not to. I try to pretend like you’re not all I think about. Every time she said something that didn’t fit, I thought about what you might say. All I wanted was you.” He admitted, his eyes running over your face, trying to understand you without words.

Your chest aches with how much you’ve wanted this, how long you’ve imagined those words.

Still, of course, you’d make him earn it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You whisper, moving slightly closer to him, craving to be close.

“Because I’m an idiot,” He chuckles dryly, “I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t know how to. I know I was unfair, and I-I’m not asking you to forgive me right away, I just need you to know. I need you to believe that it’s always been you.” His voice filled with urgency.

A second passes, and everything is still. No music, no crowd, no noise, just the two of you and everything that was never said.

Then you move, surging forward and grabbing the collar of his shirt with both hands as you pull him down, lips crashing into his. It’s messy and careless, months of restraint snapping in half.

He kisses you feverishly, like he’s making up for lost time. His kiss is desperate and unsteady, lips and breath, tongue sliding over your bottom lip as his hands find their way to your waist. He holds you tightly as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. You stand up a little on your toes, trying to get more of him as he pulls you closer.

He nips your bottom lip, making you gasp at the teasing, allowing his tongue to slip in and brush against your own, tangling messily as you whine. You break apart only when the air runs out, foreheads pressed together, your breaths tangled.

His lips are glossy, a string of saliva momentarily connecting your lips before it breaks. His cheeks are flushed, eyes dark and focused on you. You’re certain you look similar.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that, been waiting for you to realize that I was always right here. I love you.” You say breathlessly, the tiniest smile breaking through the emotions. His shoulders sag with relief, eyes brightening at your smile, as if it lifted any weight left on his shoulders.

“I’m not saying it just once,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “I’ll say it every fucking day if you let me.” He promises, placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

And in that moment, tangled up with Oscar in your own little world stripped down to nothing but the truth, you think that maybe, just maybe, you will.

*·˚

[mingiswow]

Little flower | Song Mingi

Pairing: vampire!Mingi x afab!reader

Genre: modern fantasy, romance, smut (MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 12,6k

Summary: Mingi has lived almost 500 years yet he never felt anything like he felt for you, the innocent kind barista he met at a charity event.

Content Warning: mentions of blood, mentions of food, feeding from humans, mentions of killing/hunting humans, reader suffers attempt robbery with physical attack, Mingi call reader my dear an insane ammount of times

Smut warning: porn with plot, tit sucking, oral (reader recieving), piv, unprotected sex (don't do that kiddos), creampie, Mingi big dick agenda

⚠️ English is not my first language, so sorry in advance if there’s any mistakes

The beep of your wristwatch and the bell of the door rang at the same time, announcing it was 3 pm and your regular customer was right on time. Again. 

He entered the shop and the whole atmosphere seemed to change, the few people that were there looking at the mysterious man that seemed to come out straight out of a period movie. He was tall, handsome, his hair was on the longer side, always slicked back perfectly, except for a single strand that fell on his forehead, he always dressed in long black clothes, even if it was spring or summer, the clothes seemed tailored for him, customized for his lean body. He always wore a pair of red sunglasses that hung low on his nose so his dark eyes could look at you like he was staring into your soul.

“Welcome back, sir? Your usual?” you asked behind the counter, the smile Mingi grew to be obsessed with on your soft lips. He nodded.

Mingi hated the taste of coffee, yet he found himself going to your little coffee shop everyday at 3 pm, asking for the same decaffeinated espresso just so he could interact with you even for a few seconds and stare at you. 

The man met you for the first time at a charity event he and his friends were sponsoring, and you were there with your little booth distributing coffee and baked goods for the people, always with that sweet smile of yours. He couldn’t help but be captivated by your innocence, by the way you’d move so smoothly around as you belonged to the place, by the way you were so kind to everyone, by how skin looked so smooth and soft and your neck seemed to call for his name exposed by your tied up hair. So he made his little ritual after that day to pay a visit to you in the coffee shop you worked at just so he could admire you.

“Here you go, sir” you handed him the little mug.

“I already told you to call me Mingi” you felt your cheeks heat up at his intense stare, his lips curved slightly upwards in a hint of a smile. You just nodded, not really sure what else to do, he always broke you with his eyes.

He sat at the same table he always sat, the one slightly beside the counter where he had a perfect view of you. You were so delicate, so precious, a flower in the bloom. You looked so beautiful even with the large shirt of your uniform and the apron over it, your hair tied up in a ponytail, and that beautiful smile of yours always on your lips. He admired you from afar as you laughed at something silly your coworker said, the bitter taste of the drink contrasting to the sweet view of you.

“He’s looking at you again” Jaemin, your coworker, commented as he cleaned the espresso machine. “I’m telling you, he’s obsessed” you shook your head.

“I think you are seeing things” you leaned on the counter looking at your friend. “I just think he’s a very meticulous man” you shrugged.

It has been a while since Mingi started to go to the shop, he wasn’t your only regular, but he was definitely the most amusing one. You thought you were getting delusional when you started to think he was staring at you one day, but Jaemin also noticed, and since that day you started to notice a pattern in his behaviour. He always came by the same time, always sat at the same table and would stay looking at the counter, more specifically, you. 

You tried to shake those thoughts, but your coworker kept bugging you that he was indeed going to the shop to watch you. He even tried to convince you to have a conversation bigger than the usual ones, but the man always broke you, especially the way he would look at you through his tinted sunglasses. 

When Mingi finished his coffee, he lingered a little longer, playing with the mug, before getting on his feet to leave. As always, he went to you to give his tip, he would always give the tip later just so he could say his goodbye to you, and left. But as soon as he left the shop he felt something, a tingle in his head, an omen. 

As the night fell and the last customers left the shop, you decided to finally let Jaemin go, since he was already late for his date, and closed to shop alone. When you were locking the last lock you felt something hit your head and all went black.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The smell of melted candle invaded your nostrils as you slowly woke up, your eyes gradually opening. As soon as your sight was fully focused, you took a look around where you were and did not recognize it, that definitely wasn’t your room. The room was dimly lit, the main lamp turned off, just a lampshade turned on by your side shining an indirect shade of warm yellow and a few candles by the desk in front of the bed. The bed was bigger than king size, you seemed so little in the middle of it, the soft covers in a dark shade of burgundy, the pillowcases in a matching tone of silk. The big windows by the side were closed by the thick black curtains, covering any sign of sunlight. 

You tried to move but the pain in your body was big, and the events of the night before came back to you. 

You heard footsteps coming by and watched attentively at the open door. 

“I see you woke up” it was Mingi, and he was smiling.

You almost didn’t recognized the man, he was wearing a more casual attire, with dark blue dress pants and a white button up shirt with only half of the buttons buttoned, leaving part of his chest to show, his hair was left natural, falling into his forehead, his usual dark and hidden eyes held a soft and warm gaze, almost caring. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a little, he was certainly gorgeous.

“Does it still hurt?” he calmly entered the room, hands in his pockets. You nodded. “They hit you pretty hard, huh?”

“What happened after they hit me?” you asked, now sat on the bed.

“You fainted, gladly I was passing by and saw and, well, now you’re in my house”

“Thank you, really” you bowed to him. 

“No need to thank me, I’m glad you’re safe and well” he came closer and suddenly you felt too aware of yourself. “Now let me see that bruise” he gently grabbed your head, turning to the side, you hissed a little out of pain when he passed his fingers over the spot the man hit you. “Let me put some pomade for you here, okay?” his long fingers were gentle, delicate, featherlike.

“Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough” you shied. “You saved my life and probably the shop. If there’s any way I can thank you, please, let me know”.

Mingi pondered for a while, should he? It was dangerous, yet, he would love to have such an exquisite thing like you as his companion. If he wanted to get closer to you more than admiring you from afar, to get to know you, it was the perfect opportunity. His friends would call him nuts, but it was his chance to have his way with you.

“If you want a way to thank me” he started, “I know a way” you turned to look at him, your innocent eyes expectant. Oh how he wanted to corrupt you. “Next week a friend of mine will host a party, a ball if you will, and I’d love you to have you as my companion” you blinked a few times, was he asking you on a date? “Only if you feel comfortable… obviously” he added. “It’s a way for you to thank me and also help me”

“Help you?” you cocked your head at him.

“You see, I’m getting at an age where you are expected a few things of, and having you with me would shut the annoying questions” 

“How old are you? I think you’re still young to be pressured into marrying” he laughed humorously and you smiled, his laugh was adorable.

“Let’s keep my age a secret for now, dear” he lifted from the bed. “But I’ll give you time to think, no rush” he started to leave the room, but turned around one more time “also, feel free to stay as much as you need, I’ll be at the living room down the hallway if you need me, rest well”

You muse over his invite. It is tempting. Mingi is a very handsome young man, you can’t deny that, and he also saved your life, so helping him to handle annoying acquaintances wouldn’t hurt you. Sure, he was a very refined man, he seemed to come from a very wealthy background, you didn’t even know if you’d have a proper outfit for the occasion, but helping him could be fun, you’d go to a fancy event, a ball even! 

You got out of the bed, body still hurting a bit, and slowly walked down the corridor, admiring the beautiful architecture and decoration of the place, he was for sure a wealthy man. 

Mingi was sitting in a big armchair by the window, even though it was closed, his eyeglasses hanging on the tip of his nose and he read a book, a cup of wine on a coffee table by his side. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful, ethereal even, yet there was something about his aura that lurked in the corners of his soul. And that intrigued you. 

He slowly raised his gaze from the book to you, a playful smile on his lips as if he knew you were looking at him for longer than you should. You suddenly felt shy under his strong stare, cheeks warm, your fingers playing with each other like you were some kid. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone playful, almost provocative. 

“I’ll go” you blurted out, shier by the minute he kept his stare at you.

“Go where?” he provoked, he knew what you meant, but he was loving seeing this side of you, you were indeed an innocent flower. 

“I’ll go with you to the ball” you said lowly, voice above a whisper. He smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that” he grabbed his wine and took a sip out of it, his Adam apple bobbing beautifully. “I’ll tell you the details later this week. Also, don’t worry about outfits, I’ll have my tailor making something for you. And yes, that is needed” he added when you were about to question him. “I invited you, so only fair I provide the things for you” you nodded, holding a silly happy smile to appear on your lips.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The week seemed to pass slower than ever, maybe it was because you were excited, nervous, anxious. Mingi appeared at the shop everyday at 3 pm, asked for his usual coffee and sat at the same table. His routine didn’t change, but your interactions were longer, more friendly, more intimate. 

“You guys seem to be getting along pretty well” Jaemin noted as he wiped a table, a smirk on his lips.

You just shrugged. You told him about the incident but not about the invitation knowing pretty well he was going to tease the hell out of you if you told him. 

“I think he likes you” he stated, putting the cloth he was cleaning back inside his apron’s pocket and walked over to you at the counter. “Like likes you” you felt a heat crawl up to your cheeks at the thought.

“No way a man like Mingi would like me” you observed, suddenly aware of the fact that, yes, he invited you to his event, but only because of convenience. 

“What do you mean? He comes here everyday just so he can look at you” he rolled his eyes at your innocence. “I bet he’s just cautious and it’s waiting for the right time to attack. Listen to the voice of experience” you laughed and shook your head. 

As if the man himself was listening to your conversation, he sent you a message, the first time since you exchanged numbers that day at his house. 

Mingi: Hi, hope I’m not bothering you at work Mingi: But my tailor said your outfit is ready Mingi: Do you feel more comfortable for me to send it to your work or to your house? 

You smiled childishly at your screen, feeling your stomach take a few turns but you blamed your anxiety to see the garment he prepared for you. 

You: Hii You: not bothering at all today’s quite slow after you left You: you can send it to my house, no problemo You: here’s my address You: thank you so much again, you didn’t had to Mingi: No need to thank me Mingi: You deserve it Mingi: Hope you like it

With that you put your phone back in your pocket, a silly smile never leaving your lips, what had he prepared for you? To say you were excited and anxious was an understatement. Jaemin noticed the shift in your behaviour and he was sure it had to do with a certain mysterious costumer, your smile whenever you talked to or about him was unmistakable. He was curious but he didn’t want to chime into your business, so he let it be, waiting for you to tell him your secrets on your own time.

The afternoon seemed to drag on, your anxiety eating you alive. You looked at the clock on the wall every fifteen minutes, the time slower than the normal. When it was finally time for you to close the shop, you rushed, cleaning everything in record time, leaving Jaemin impressed. 

Your friend insisted on walking you home every day since the attack, so the two of you walked side by side. It was actually really helpful for your mind to have Jaemin talking your ears off all the way home, easing your anxiety a bit, making your mind leave Mingi and his surprises. 

You and the boy said your goodbyes and you entered the building, the doorman greeting you.

“You have a few packages for you, they were delivered this afternoon” you nodded excitedly. “I think you’ll be needing help to take all this to your apartment” when you looked over to the desk there were three enormous boxes and a bag. Mingi was nuts!

“If you don’t mind, I’d love help” you chuckled shyly.

The man grabbed two of the biggest boxes while you grabbed the smallest box and the bag and headed to your apartment. You left it all at your coffee table in the center of the room and inspected the packages. The boxes looked fancy, out of a sturdy cardboard covered in dark green suede paper with a black satin ribbon. The bag was painfully white, it could almost reflect light, with a matching black satin ribbon. 

The anxiety was eating you up, yet you felt nervous to open those boxes. You took a deep breath and decided to open the biggest one first, assuming it was the garment. And you were right.

Your eyes couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. When he said it was a ball you did not imagine you’d dress for such. The dress was absolutely stunning, breathtaking, you have never seen something so beautiful in your life. It was a long red dress, the bodice and part of the skirt were hand embroidered with silver beads, the chest had a net that connected the collar to the rest of the dress, a red cross hanging from the collar. The skirt had a high slit where a black embroidered lace was seen underneath, making part of your leg see through. The back was even more beautiful, the bodice had a low cut, almost reaching your bum, and tied up with a satin ribbon of the same shade of red. The net had more embroideries in it. 

You looked at it in complete awe. It was more than you could ask, more than you could imagine. You were shy at the thought of Mingi buying these expensive things for you. 

You grabbed the next box, not knowing what to expect, and opened. Inside laid a gorgeous high heeled pair of shoes. Black with the red soles, matching your dress perfectly. The leather shining on the light of your apartment. He was really going to buy you the entire outfit? Answer was yes. When you opened the last box you surprised yourself. It was a tiara, a crown almost, studded with white, black and red gems. It was exquisite, the gems going up in teardrops shape, some silver spikes in between them giving a gothic vibe to it. It matched Mingi’s style. 

Lastly, there was the bag. You gently opened it, not wanting to ruin it, and inside there were a few makeup items such as eyeshadow palettes, highlights, blushes and lipsticks. You were going insane. He went all the way to even buying you makeup. How were you going to make it up for all of this? How were you going to pay for all of this? 

You decided to send a message to Mingi to thank him for everything, still shocked, shy at his generosity. 

You: I just received the packages You: I don’t even know what to say Mingi: Did you like it? You: I LOVED You: thank you so much You: you didn’t had to go all this way tho Mingi: Only the best for my girl

My girl. You giggled like a teenager and threw yourself on the sofa, legs bouncing. You were his girl. You liked this. You could be used to this.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The rest of the days were odd, Mingi didn’t appear at the shop the whole week. You didn’t want to admit it, but you missed his eyes on you. You longed for him every day at 3 pm. You pondered sending him a message but decided not to, not wanting to seem annoying or nosy. The day of the event was due and he didn't give you any heads up anymore. You were getting nervous.

“You seem uneasy” Jaemin acknowledged, his hands cleaning a cup. “Is it because your man hasn’t shown up this week?”

“He’s not my man” you responded, not really paying much attention to him. Your mind wandering from Mingi to the ball to the dress carefully kept in your house. 

“Yet” you rolled your eyes to him, but deep down you were wondering if he meant it when he called you his girl. If he intended to make you his. Because truth be told, you'd give yourself to him if he asked for.

You and Jaemin were closing the shop when you felt a sudden cold breeze, you looked to the side and a dark shadow lurked in the corner as if it was watching you. You tried to not pay much attention to it, it was probably just some shadow formed by some boxes and stuff. But as soon as you and your friend started to walk towards your house, you felt as if the shadow was following you every step, a growing tightness in your chest.

“Min…” you called your friend, who seemed unbothered by it all. “Have you noticed something following us?” he looked behind you, scanning the perimeter.

“I see nothing. Are you okay?” you looked around you two too, the shadow seemed to disappear, a deep breath leaving your lungs. “That day really left scars on you, huh?” he hugged you by your side, keeping you close to him.

But you couldn't shake the feeling of the shadow that followed you was still there. Watching you every step. 

You threw yourself in your bed as soon as you arrived home, your heart racing, legs shaking, you were at the edge of something you didn't know how to name. You closed your eyes, doing your breathing exercises and trying your best to remain calm. you were home, nothing could reach you there. 

Deciding not to let those feelings win, you opened your favorite playlist, put it on the maximum volume and went on to take a shower. You felt your whole body relax when the warm water hit your scalp and fell down your back. You imagined all the bad thoughts, all the bad feelings and sensations leaving your body as if they were a black paint being washed by the water. You carefully soaped your skin with the soap, the lovely smell of lavender invading your senses and helping you calm even more.

At the corner of your eye you saw it again, the black shadow, but when you turned to look at it, it wasn't there anymore. “It's just your imagination” you kept repeating to yourself, but the sudden cold breeze that invaded your bathroom and the feeling of being watched wasn't helping at all.

Resuming your shower quicker than you intended, you decided you didn't want to spend the night alone, you were going to call Jaemin or any other of your friends. You left the shower, dried yourself quickly and put on a robe, ready to send a message to your friend when your doorbell rang. 

When you opened the door you saw Mingi in his usual attire, a long black coat covering his body. His complexion seemed more pale than the usual and his lips were a crimson shade of red, plumper than his normal shape. His eyes looked like they weren't there, looked lost. He appeared distressed. 

“Mingi, hi, are you alright?” you asked, analyzing him.

“Yes, I am alright. Thank you for asking” he smiled, a faint one. There was a moment of silence of you two just standing at the door before he spoke. “Aren't you going to invite me to come in?” 

“Oh my God, my bad, yes, come on in, how rude of me” you gave space for him to pass and he graciously did. “How can I help you tonight? Do you want something? Water? Coffee? Tea?”

“Just water it's okay” you went to the kitchen to grab a cup of water for each one of you. “I'm sorry I was absent this week, I was busy with… work and couldn't see you” he said, his words measured. 

“No need to apologize, it's your life after all” you smiled and gave the cup to him. You looked over at his hand and noticed blood in there. “Mingi, you're bleeding!” you almost shouted, and grabbed his hands to look at it, but it wasn't hurt, it was just blood, no signs of cuts or wounds.

“Oh I must have forgotten to clean it properly” he said embarrassed, retracting his hand from you and rubbing the already dry blood with a napkin he had in his pocket. “I had a case of a boy who have fallen of his bike, it must be his” 

“Oh, so you're a doctor?” you mused, never really having thought about his profession.

“You could say so, yes” you nodded with a smile and he smiled back at your innocence, he felt bad at lying to you but at least until the ball it was necessary. “So I came to discuss the matters of the party, if you remember, and I hope you do, it is tomorrow” you nodded, finally taking a seat at his side on the sofa, your body heat radiating to him. “You need to be ready by six, that’s the time I'll be picking you up, not a minute earlier not a minute later” you took a sip of your water and for a moment he lost his train of thought looking at your plump lips. “And I need to give you a bit of fair warnings about the people at the party. Some of those people are not trustable, not around people like you, so be near me at all times, do not leave my side, if you need anything please let me know that I'll get it for you with you, ok?” you nodded.

“Where are you taking me? you laughed a little, a bit nervous, a bit anxious, a bit to better the mood, but Mingi was being serious, his expression not softening. 

“I really want you with me tomorrow, but you need to be careful, soon you'll understand” you slowly nodded, his eyes staring at you.

His eyes always broke you. They could make you do anything with just one look, would that be blush or trust him undoubtedly. You felt your heart race not only at the way he was staring deeply into your soul but at the sudden feeling of being a small mouse entering the lion's cage. There was a sudden air of danger hovering in the air. Not you in danger in his presence but what was about to happen in the next 24 hours. Your skin prickled at the thought, suddenly the shadow in the corner didn't seem so bad. 

“I'll be there to protect you, no harm will be caused to you, my dear, you are my protected now” the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. His protected. His dear. His.  You felt a warmth in your belly you haven't felt in years at his words. He always spoke so articulately. Like a gentleman of a secret high society. It made you melt. 

“I’m sure you will, Mingi. I don't doubt you” you said genuinely, a hand gently being placed on top of his, and it was his turn to have his belly warm. The things you made him feel he couldn't remember the last he felt. Dead or alive. 

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You took the day off from the coffee shop so you could really take your time to relax and be ready. That if you could even relax. You were anxious to the max. You spent your entire morning deep cleaning your apartment, trying to keep yourself busy from remembering Mingi words from the night before. All the wait making you even more anxious.

It was little past 3 pm when you started to get ready, taking a long shower, adding extra steps into your normal routine. You were really going all the way to look extra good not only for Mingi but for the event as well. Since the outfit and the accessories already were showstopping, you decided on going for a classic soft smokey eye, trying not to go too heavy on it. 

When the clock hit 6 pm, you were going down the last stairs from the hall of your building when the big black car parked, and your stomach twisted even more if that was possible. The car, in opposition to Mingi's style, was big and modern. Then he left the car and you swore your heart stopped for a moment. Mingi looked even more refined than ever. He wore black fitted dress pants, red shiny shoes, his white blouse was fancy, puffy sleeves and a ruffled collar that was adorned with a ruby brooch, he wore a tight red vest that matched your dress, also embroidered with silver beads, and had two long tails hanging from behind his back. You couldn't even start to describe how handsome he was.

When he saw you coming from your building he couldn't believe his eyes. You were the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on. The way the dress hugged your body highlighting all your beautiful curves, the way the soft of your leg was half hidden underneath the black lace left his mind wandering to dangerous places. Or how your neck was hidden by the collar, eliciting his desire even more. He was definitely going to be the luckiest man in the party.

“Good night” he said, offering his hand for you to grab, which you gladly accepted. He kissed your knuckles, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I think I don't even need to tell you how absolutely stunning you are looking tonight” you suppressed your high-schooler giggle.

“Thank you. You look absolutely amazing too, Mingi” if he didn't lack blood in his system he was sure he would have blushed too.

He helped you onto the car and sat by your side, telling the driver to finally go. The drive was pleasant, you two talked about how your day, how your past week was, how work was. It was a great way to break the ice and also help ease the tension. But the closer you got to a giant gothic mansion, the more your anxiety seemed to come back. Mingi, sensing your crippling anxiety, held your bouncing leg and squeezed softly the skin there.

“Hey, we can go back if you want” you denied with your head. “Remember, I'll be by your side at all times” you nodded. He left your leg and grabbed your hand, his cold ones helping reduce the temperature of your clammy ones. 

The car came to a halt, announcing you had finally arrived, and a man dressed like he was a royal guard opened the door for the two of you. Mingi was the first one to leave the car, once again helping you out.

Suddenly all eyes seemed to be on you, and you became too aware of everything around you, the place, the people, the aura. Everything felt too surreal, too much. You didn't belong there. And it wasn’t just a social class matter. It was a deeper thing that you couldn't quite pinpoint yet.

“Stay by my side” Mingi remembered you, his hand still holding you, grounding you. 

You walked past some people, their heads turning to look at you. Mingi guided you to a group of a few equally ravishing men, some of them were alone, others had companions as well. They all seemed pretty enthusiastic when the man showed up, making loud noises and greeting each other, grabbing attention from some people around. 

“Ah, Mingo, I see you finally you brought your rare flower” one of them spoke, shamelessly looking at you up and down. “I'm San, my love” he offered his hand, you accepted and he kissed your knuckles for longer than necessary. 

“We thought you'd never gather the guts to ask them out” another one spoke, taking a sip of wine while his other hand was around the waist of his companion. 

“Perhaps it was them who asked him first” they all laughed and you saw Mingi shake his head, a shy smile play on his lips, so he talked about you to his friends? How long was he trying to call you out? You found it absolutely adorable.

You squeezed his hand, that was still holding yours, and he looked over at you, his eyes a different shade of dark, you never saw it like that, and smiled at him. He could die right then and there, you were the most adorable thing to step on this Earth. Your innocence was something he cherished yet he wanted to corrupt and break you so bad. 

He excused himself from his friends and went to show the mansion to you, show you the architecture, the design, the history behind every brick. 

“You are the talk of the party today, my dear” he whispered to you when you stopped by a table to grab some wine for the both of you. You noticed he grabbed a different wine for him, but decided to let it slide. “I bet everyone is talking about your ravishing beauty” you felt your cheeks heat at his words.

“I feel like everyone here looks at me like they want to eat me or something” you chuckled at your joke.

“They might” Mingi whispered into your ear. “And I might want it too” you were so lucky there was no one around to see the way your body trembled at his words, the heat that was on your cheeks going dangerously low.

He pulled you once again back to where his friends were and engaged in a conversation with them, leaving you just listening to them while enjoying your wine. You looked down where your hands intertwined, where he still held you close to him, secured, safe. The heat was back at your cheeks at the thought of how you felt with him. Even though he had that mysterious aura, the atmosphere of secrets that surrounded him, somehow you felt like you could trust him, you could feel at ease with him, feel safe.

The chat suddenly stopped and you looked over from your hands, where your eyes were still glued, to the group of people and noticed a man walking over there. He wasn't old, but older than the boys, but he held an aura of power, of prestige. He was very well dressed and he held a cane in his hand, the dark wood carved into intricate designs, the tip golden. 

“My boys! Good to see you all here!” he greeted them with arms open and a wide smile, with was inviting but held a wicked vibe to it. He looked over at you, a smirk playing at his lips as he walked ever so smoothly to where you stand next to Mingi. “I see we have a new guest today, what an honour” he grabbed your hand that was holding Mingi's and kissed the knuckles delicately, featherlike. “Nice to meet you, young flower, I'm the host of this event” you bowed respectfully.

“Nice to meet you, sir. You have such a nice house and the event is esplendid” you answered trying to sound as polite as him, he made you nervous. 

“Thank you, dear, but you see, I think my house is missing some… flowers” he smirked, looking at Mingi, who pulled you by your waist in a possessive way.

“I'm sorry, Taegyu, this one is mine” the older man laughed at Mingi's reaction and swayed his hands saying it was a joke, but you didn't feel it was simply a joke. 

The way the Taegyu guy looked at you was weird to say the least, like he was about to devour you, you noticed that when he kissed your knuckles he took a sniff of your hands and his eyes fluttered as if you were a delicious piece of grilled meat. The entire conversation between him and the boys you noticed his stolen stares at you, the little smirks, the tap of his gloved fingers on the cane. He was making you feel uneasy, and Mingi noticed. 

Mingi knew he couldn't hide his secret for longer, not with the way your scent was especially strong that night, making him feral. And probably everyone else in the party. He should have given you the perfume but he forgot. He noticed how Taegyu was looking at you, desperate. But this time he knew you wouldn't exchange him for the man like the others did, with you it wasn't a question of status or power, he was sure of that. You weren't simply another blood bag, for him, you were more, and he wished he was more for you too. 

He didn't know how to approach you and tell you his secret, how to touch the subject without you running away from him forever, he didn't want to lose you, he couldn't afford to lose you, not now that he was so attached to you, so close to having you for him. In all his almost 500 years of life he never felt so lost, you did things to him that not even his first love had and he honestly didn't know how to react. You were too pure, too innocent, too sweet for him, yet he couldn't afford to let you go, he was a selfish man, he wanted you all for him, and for him only. 

“Mingi” you called him, making him wake up from his daydreams of you. “Can we talk? In private” you added when he nodded. 

He led you two to the second floor of the house and it was even more beautiful than the first one, if it was possible. All the walls were covered in a soft green wallpaper, many art pieces on top of that, expensive ones that looked like they came straight out of museums. Mingi took you to a more secluded balcony where you could listen to yourselves better. Under your feet you could see the party happening, the people looking tiny under you.

You watched the man in front of you, something about him was different that night, darker, more mysterious, everything about that night felt odd. 

“There is something you might want to tell me?” you started, heavy chest, breathing uneven. You honestly didn’t know what to expect. 

He looked at you trying to hide his astonishment at you, his hand casually in his pants’ pockets as he cocked his head at you, while deep down he knew this moment was coming, he just didn’t know it would be so soon.

“What do you mean, my dear?” Mingi tried to sound composed.

“I don’t know, you tell me” you started, voice a little bit higher than your usual tone, a sign you were nervous. “Everything about this place feels… weird, like it came out of a movie, like it is stuck in time. Everyone here spent the night looking like they wanted to devour me, like I was a prey being hunted. You and I drank different drinks, and yours smelt very odd to say the least” you stated, words coming out of your mouth fast. “Not to mention that when you were talking to your friends some of their companions asked me if I was your blood bag. What in the hell did they mean?” Mingi sighed and you saw the defeated look in his face. “You’re not a doctor are you, right?” he denied, his head hanging low.

“Look, I was meant to tell you but I didn’t even know how to start” you nodded, signaling for him to continue. “I’m not a doctor, not anything related, I actually don’t work, I don’t need to”.

“So you’re filthy rich? That’s it?” 

“Yes. And no” it was your turn to cock your head at him. “I am filthy rich, I accumulated a lot during my life. You see, I’m older than I look”

“How old? You don’t look that old, Mingi. Stop taking turns, and go straight to the point, please” he sighed.

“I’m 487 years old” you looked at him incredulously, eyes blinking before letting a loud and humorous laugh out, head hanging back. You looked at him again but he wasn’t laughing. Or smiling. 

“Mingi, c’mon, if you want to lie to me or mislead me so I can leave you alone, at least say something believable” you crossed your arms.

“I’m being serious. I’m 487 years old and I’m a vampire. All my friends are vampires, Taegyu is a vampire, most of the guests here tonight are vampires” you started to laugh again.

“Mingi, please, I’m not a teenager anymore, I might like twilight but I don’t believe in vampires or werewolves or any other magical creature. I don’t know what you are trying to do, if that’s a fetish of yours, but it ain’t working” you turned to leave but he held your wrist, an annoyed huff leaving you, he was wearing your patience thin. “Mingi, please, I…” you turned around to look at him and he had his fangs out. You rolled your eyes. “Nice little costume you have, can I go now?” he retracted his fangs back to his normal teeth and you blinked a few times. “How did you do that?” You went to his mouth and started searching for signs of dentures or any prosthetics.

“Because they are real fangs, I can do that all the time” he made the fangs appear and disappear again. “I know it’s crazy, I know it sounds stupid, but we are real. I don’t know about werewolves, unicorns or whatever, but we have been existing among humans for centuries now” you didn’t know what to believe, his fangs looked too real and he seemed too serious about it all. “This week, when I disappeared, I was weak, I needed blood, I was postponing because getting a blood bag felt like betraying you, but I couldn’t handle anymore, I was getting angry, dangerous, vicious without blood, and if I got too close from you I knew I wouldn’t contain myself” he explained to you in hope that you could understand and believe him. “You humans have a different smell, an intoxicating one for us, and the longer we are without blood, the stronger the smell gets” he came closer but you didn’t back up. “And your smell is rather special to me. You know why?” you denied, your head perched up so you could look him in his eyes, his dark eyes. “Because when we fall in love the smell changes, the scent gets sweeter, specific, and you, my dear, smell like coffee, freshly baked cookies and daisies, and only I can smell that” you couldn’t answer anything, he just admitted to be in love with you while also admitting to wanting to suck your blood. “That’s why I didn’t offer you to be my blood bag from the beginning, because ever since I saw you that day at the charity event I knew I had to have you for me entirely” he laced his arms around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest. Your heart was racing, you didn’t know what to think, he was alluring, absurdly handsome, charming, he had you in the palm of his hand. The way his dark eyes would stare at you, deep into your soul seemed as if he was hypnotizing you. “The way you are so innocent, so pure, so delicate makes me want to corrupt you, to show you things no man has ever shown. Makes me want to bite the delicate and soft skin of your neck and mark you mine. Forever. I want to make you addicted to the feeling of me feeding from you while you give yourself to me entirely, body and soul” his words felt like daggers in your body, hitting all the right spots, and whenever they hit you a warmth would spread at the place. Your whole body was hot, you were sweating from his words only.

Mingi moved slowly, testing your reaction, but you didn’t retreat, instead, you waited for him with your lips half open. He gently touched your lips with his and when you accepted he started to kiss you, moving his mouth with yours. You had thought about kissing this man so many nights and now that it was happening it felt so surreal. His lips were soft, plump and cold. His hands held your waist strongly, squeezing the flesh underneath the dress and pressing your body impossibly close to his. Your hands were messing with the hairs in the back of his neck, fingers intertwining with the long locks to pull his face close to yours as he deepened the kiss. You could feel not only his tongue in your mouth but his fangs too, the sharp tip deliciously scraping the inside of your lips but not enough to draw blood. He was a good kisser, a very good one. You didn’t want to stop, no, for you, you could have stayed kissing the whole night on the balcony. 

But air was still something you needed, so you had to break the kiss. You were panting a little, a silly smile on your face. You looked over at Mingi and his dark eyes were a dark shade of red. He looked divine with his hair disheveled from your kiss, clothes all scrunched up from moving and holding you. And he could say the same from you, you looked absolutely divine with your hair messed up, face tinted from the lack of air, lips swollen from action. He wanted to bite you so bad right then and there. 

“I don’t know if you believe me, but I hope that this was enough proof about my endearment for you, about my feelings for you” he caressed your hair, slightly fixing the strands that were out of place. “And I hope one day you can return them”.

Your heart ached in indecision. On one hand you did like Mingi, you adored him, he showed himself to be a gentleman, a kind being, and he grew into your heart each day more. The days he was away were longer because he wasn’t there, you missed him. On the other hand you didn’t know how to feel about the whole vampire thing, you needed more proof to believe him, more than fangs or blood bag talks. You were going insane, vampires did not exist, right? 

“I think I need some time to process it all, Mingi” he nodded, he knew that would come. “I still don’t know if I believe in you and that you are a vampire, but I like you, I really do” he felt relieved listening to your words, you liked him back, at least one step was taken.

“If you need more proof, when you are ready, come to my place, I can show you things that maybe can help”

“You're not gonna show me a coffin that you sleep in, will you?” you chuckled and he laughed, appreciating your sense of humour at times like these.

“We haven't slept in coffins for centuries now, that’s something that Hollywood gets wrong about us. But I do have some proofs about the centuries and places I lived in, if you’re interested in seeing them” you nodded. “I’ll give you all the time you need, when you’re ready just look out for me”.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Three weeks. It has been three weeks since the party at Taegyu’s house and the canonic event that changed your life forever. And was about to change even more. Since that day Mingi never went to the coffee shop again, earning Jaemin a million questions of why was that? Did you do something to him? Did you reject him? You wish you could tell him what happened but he would call the hospital on you, admit you into a mental facility. And to be honest, you were almost admitting yourself. 

You couldn’t take Mingi out of your mind, you dreamt of him almost every night. Some nights it’s him feeding from you, his long sharp fangs buried deep down your arm as he sucks the life out of you. Other nights it’s you and him having a domestic life together, a bubblegum sweet relationship as you share your lives together. And there are even other nights where you had wet dreams with him, his long body laid on top of you as he claimed you his, him buried deep down your walls as he bit the junction between your shoulder and neck, marking you as his forever. 

There were nights you swore you could see his silhouette in the corner of your room, or when you were going back home from work and you’d feel a presence behind you, the dark shadow that lurked in the corners seemingly following you. At that point you swore you were going crazy, but there was a little itch in your brain that told you that those shadows and silhouettes were real and they were Mingi watching you. Taking care of you from afar. 

You developed a little routine for not becoming crazier than you already were. You’d go to work early in the morning, spend the day at the cafe and, after work, you’d either go to the library to do your research on vampires. Searching on old books, late magazines, on the internet, podcasts, videos where people claimed to have encountered vampires before. You even contacted some of the people from the internet to see if they could help you but they all seemed a bunch of weirdos, some of them even admitting to have lied for views. You were losing your mind, really. 

One night, while in the library, you saw a man that you recognized as one of Mingi friends from the Party. You saw him talk to the librarian and both of them disappeared behind the shelves. Curious, you decided to follow them. Something telling you that your answer could be there. Carefully, you followed the two until what seemed like a storage. All of sudden, the man showed his fangs and bit the librarian’s arm. You had to cover your mouth to not let a gasp come out when you saw the scene. The man was doing exactly what you have dreamt of Mingi doing to you. You didn’t know how to react. Should you call someone? Should you intervene? A little while after, he stopped sucking the poor woman and sensually licked the place where seconds ago were his fangs, his eyes connected to hers. She was smiling, she seemed happy, satisfied, almost blissed. 

You left the place fast before they could see you and sat back at your table, heart racing, breath irregular. You grabbed your stuff and went fast home, not caring if the lurking shadow was following you or not.

That night you couldn’t sleep, all your thoughts surrounding the scene you saw and how would it feel if Mingi did that to you. 

The next day you found yourself walking a different path, automatically your feet took you to somewhere you only have been once but your heart has been ever since. The front of his house was as refined as him, the walls very white like they have been recently painted, and various flowers and plants adorning the garden. You rang the doorbell before you could run away.

After a few seconds a casual Mingi appeared, his face seemed to brighten when he saw you, a smile dancing on his lips.

“You came” he stated and opened the door for you to enter. “I was starting to lose my hope you’d appear” he admitted, his hand scratching the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm flexing under the t-shirt he wore. 

It was the first time you saw him wearing a t-shirt and he couldn’t look more ravishing. The way the fabric stuck to his muscles, outlining them and leaving you almost drooling at the sight in front of you. So he was hiding all of this under those frilly and thick clothes? You couldn’t help but feel a heat take over your body. 

And he felt it too. Your smell increasing as soon as you entered the house, your scent taking over the entirety of the room you were in, intoxicating him. He noticed the way you ogled him, at his body, your body heat rising. He felt his ego inflate a little.

He led you to his living room, pointing to one of his armchairs so you could sit comfortably. 

“Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea, water? Wine?” 

“Tea is fine, thank you” 

He went to the kitchen for a while before coming back with a tray with a cup of tea. You took a sip feeling the soothing taste of lemon.

“How can I help you today?” he asked, sitting in front of you and crossing his legs. You took a deep breath.

“I think… I think I believe you” you stated and signaled for you to keep talking. “I did my research, even though they weren’t conclusive- why are you laughing?” you asked when you saw Mingi hold his laughter.

“You researched over vampires?” you nodded, embarrassed. “You’re painfully cute, you know that? Continue”

“Anyways, one night, at the library, I saw your friend, I think his name is San, and the librarian. And he was… feeding off of her. I followed them and saw it all, I know I shouldn’t but I felt like my answer would be there” you admitted.

“And how did you feel about it?” you looked over from your tea to him. Heat crawling up your cheek at your naughty thoughts about him. 

“I was shocked at first” you assumed. “But after I… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the feeling of it” you confessed shyly.

Mingi would have died if he wasn’t already dead. You looked so cute admitting that to him, like you had just admitted committing a crime. Your innocence would always be something he would cherish until the day he would break. And he was hoping that day would be the day.

“Wanna know how it is?” you looked at him with widened eyes as if he had asked you the filthiest of the questions. “I can show you how it feels if you allow me”. 

“I…” your words were caught in your throat. You were torn between wanting to fulfill your dirtiest desires and fear.

“Why don’t I show you my collection of memories? If you’re nice enough I can show you my old coffin” he laughed and you nodded.

He guided you through the house, leading you to the third floor, which was more of an attic than an actual floor. It was full of things over the place, things that indeed seemed from centuries away. Some of them even were inside glass domes and boxes, protected from dust and anything that could ruin them. 

Mingi saw your eyes shine at the sight of his things and swelled with pride, he knew that at some point keeping so much stuff would be useful, even if it was to impress a woman. 

The man showed things one by one, explaining where and when it came from, telling you stories from that period he lived, how it was living in that period, how it was being a vampire during that time in history. 

“Did you guys hunt back then?” you asked, eyes fixated on a windchime from the Joseon Dynasty. 

“Yes, animal blood tastes terrible and vampires weren’t seen as magical creatures that people write romances about” you laughed at him and nodded. “Blood bags became common only in the late 20th century”.

“Must be terrible to hunt for humans” 

“It was, but sometimes I miss the thrill of it” he admitted with a chuckle. “There’s not much to do nowadays, we don’t need to work and we can’t work because of our need for blood and weakness for the human smell. If we stay in a place with too many humans, the smell becomes unbearable and we can’t control our instincts. So we just stay under the radar”

“If walking like you came out of Interview with a Vampire is under the radar for you I have some news to tell you” you joked, laughing, and he accompanied your laugh. 

“Maybe one day you can take me shopping so I can dress more accordingly to the time” you nodded eagerly.

“I’d love that”. A heavy silence fell upon you. Suddenly none of you saying anything. “So… are you hungry?” you asked to break the silence.

“I don’t eat” he answered. “But I can do something for you if you-”

“I wasn’t talking about food” you said, cutting him. It was his turn to look at you with widened eyes, his dark eyes gleaming with hope. You maintained his eye contact.

“Are you sure?” you nodded.

“I believe in you, Mingi” you got closer to him, your hands going to his chest. “More than that, I trust you”.

He took advantage of your already close proximity and leaned down to kiss your lips. The kiss was gentle, soft, slow, as if he was savouring you before actually tasting you. His hands held your waist gentler than the night at the party but you could still feel the possessiveness in him. Your hands were spread out on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch and under your spell on him. 

“Let’s go back to the living room” he told after breaking the kiss, you nodded, following him back to the room. 

He led you to the bigger couch so you could be at a comfortable position and he could be sure you wouldn’t faint. You sat very close to him, your knee touching his. You gave your arm to him, still a bit hesitant. Mingi gently grabbed your arm and started peppering kisses all over the soft skin, going up your arm until he reached your face again. He kissed your lips again, making you melt on his touch. You discovered that not only his eyes broke you, but also his lips, everytime the soft muscles touched yours you felt like you could live there. He broke the kiss after a while and kissed your forehead, joining them after.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered against your lips and you nodded. You were a little scared but you truly trusted him. And the adrenaline, the rush of excitement, you were feeling from anticipation told you that there was more than just curiosity. “I need you to say with all your words, my dear, I need your consent”

“I want this, Mingi, I want you to feed from me” the words came a little shaken but you managed to say it, earning a last peck on your lips.

Mingi, ever so delicately, kissed a spot on your pulse, his nose deep inhaling your sweet scent. His fangs appeared and you held a gasp. He grasped the fangs slowly through your skin, the thin points tickling and making you shiver wherever they passed. He locked his eyes with yours one last time before sinking his fangs on your pulse. The sound that came from you wasn’t a scream or a gasp, it was borderline a whine. The sensation striking, painful, yet sensual, soothing. 

You felt your whole body weaken as if it had melted. And then it started, right when he started to suck your blood out of you, the heat spread in your whole body like you were with a fever, your legs starting to squeeze together, your mind cloudy and dizzy, your only thought was him, all you could think was the dirty dreams you had with Mingi, the things he would do with your body, the things you would do to his body. The more he sucked you, the more aroused you’d get, your lips agape, whines escaping from them with each suck. You managed to look to the side and the view was something to behold, Mingi with his eyes rolled back, his plump lips attached to your pulse while his hands grasped at your forearm as if his life depended on it.

And it did. You tasted like something he never had before. They always said that the taste of lovers' blood is different but now that he tasted you he couldn’t stop, no, he couldn’t let you escape from his grasp. And he could feel every emotion, every thought from you into your blood, he could feel how aroused you were, how much you were enjoying this, how hot and bothered you were by minute. 

Mingi didn’t want to stop, no, if he could he would feed from you until you were dry. But he had better plans for you. He wanted you by his side, well and healthy. So he stopped, with difficulty, but he did. Licking the place where he bit so his saliva would heal the wounds faster and stop the bleeding. 

Your breath was rapid, erratic, you didn’t know what to focus on. You noticed the sharpness of his fangs and the hardness of his suction were gone and you looked to the side, seeing a satisfied Mingi. His skin seemed fresher, glowing, almost as if you could see a pink tint to his cheeks. You wondered if it was all your imagination, he was dead after all. 

The man left the room and came back with a damp cloth and a drink. He started to clean your sweaty face, always ever so gentle with his touch as if you were a porcelain doll. And, to him, you were his doll.

“Drink this” he handed you the bottle of a pinkish drink. It tasted sour with a subtle aftertaste of peaches. “It’s a special drink for after we drink your blood, it will give your strength back in no time” he kissed your forehead and went to discard the cloth back in its place. 

When he came back he sat by your side, circling your body with his arm and bringing it to lay on his chest. You laid there, enjoying the silence as you watched the faint wound in your pulse, a mark of your trust, of your belief. He kissed the top of your head, caressing your arm delicately. You sighed.

“What that head of yours is thinking?” Mingi asked, head lowering to look at you.

“Just… How’s everything is so crazy right now” you turned to look back at him. “The man I like is a vampire who just sucked my blood, and more than that I enjoyed all of that”

“I could tell you enjoyed it, dear” he caressed your head. You looked at him puzzled. “I can taste everything through your blood, every sensation, every feeling, every thought” you widened your eyes. “It’s a blood connection after all”.

“You could see… everything? Even my t-thoughts?” he nodded slowly. 

You hid your face in your hands and he chuckled, grabbing your hands to take away from your beautiful face. He kissed your lips, his tongue easily entering your mouth and dominating you, his fangs scraping your skin, this time to draw blood just so he could lick it and kiss it. He pulled your lower lip to break the kiss.

“Why be shy, my dear? I can fulfill all your fantasies, only if you allow me” the way he spoke, his deep husky voice fanning air into your mouth, making the heat come back to your body, your legs squeezing together again. He looked at your legs and chuckled. “And by the way your body is reacting, I think you want me to, don’t you?” you nodded eagerly. “You know I work with words, darling”

“I want you, Mingi, I want you to make me yours” you whined, the need for him already clouding your mind.

“Good girl” he attacked your lips, but time was different, it was hungry, desperate, like he was going to eat you whole. “Let’s go to my room” you nodded and he grabbed you like you weighed nothing, taking you to his room.

His room matched him, it was dark, dimly lit, the windows covered by the same thick curtain that was in the room you stayed in the time he took you there. The bed was enormous, round, covered in a red silk sheet. He gently laid your body on top of the bed and hovered it with his big one. His eyes were darker than usual, if that was ever possible. 

Mingi started to kiss you again, his left hand holding his weight and his right one exploring your body. He was bold, you got to admit that. You, on the other hand, was a bothered mess underneath him, your body hot, whines escaping your lips between the kisses and shivers running down whenever he would touch even on top of the clothes.

But you wanted more. You needed more. Your hands started to enter underneath his shirt, feeling his cold skin under your palm, his muscles tensing under your touch. He understood your silent message and unlinked your lips, staying on his knees so he could take his shirt off. You shamelessly watched as he undressed, biting your lower lip as you saw his muscular torso.

“Like what you see?” you nodded, pulling him back to kiss you.

In a rush of confidence, you turned your bodies over, staying on top of him. You could feel his volume even underneath the layers of clothing and without much thought, you started to grind yourself on top of his crotch, earning a soft groan from him. 

His hands slid from your thighs to your hips to the hem of your shirt, playing a little with the fabric before starting to pull it up, taking off of your body, leaving you only with your bra in full display to him. You grabbed his hands and put them on top of your boobs, which he more than gladly did, squeezing and feeling the softness of them. Expertly, he unclasped your bra, tossing to the ground and looked at you, asking for permission. You nodded, throwing your head back and enjoying it all.

Mingi attacked your breasts with his mouth, sucking, licking, biting them. His fangs appearing to graze over the skin and make you shiver under his touch. He gave special attention to them, enjoying how your body was reacting to him, your little noises, your little wriggles, your grinding on him. Everything about you was perfect and he was addicted to your perfection.

After his assault to your chest, the man turned your position again, so he could enjoy his meal better. He started unbuttoning your pants and taking them off your body along with your cute pink panties, leaving you bare in front of him. If he wasn’t already dead he could die just at the plain sight of your naked body. You were the most magnificent thing he laid eyes on, he was sure of that before, but seeing you naked, rendered to him was the nail in the coffin he needed. The view of you alongside your intoxicating smell was driving him crazy. He was addicted, obsessed, he wanted you all for him, just for him. He wanted to have you everyday all day, and he was sure that the moment he tasted your nectar it would be more than over for him. 

Mingi looked at you searching for any sign of regret or withdrawal but no, you were sprawled on the bed, legs open waiting for him. And for him only. 

He started to kiss your legs, your pores bristling down the trail he passed by, going up until he reached your inner thighs. You wriggled in his touch, trying to close your legs, but he was stronger and kept them open. He wasn’t in the mood of teasing, not when he was starving. He planted a little kiss in your vulva, then another, then a lick, and then another. You whined at the feeling, fuelling Mingi to do more. He started to lick your vulva from bottom to top spreading your wetness along with his saliva. He started to suck your clit, moans starting to fly past your lips freely. The tip of his tongue drawing circles and figures eight from time to time, alternating between sucking and licking at your clit. All you could do was moan and moan, his name faintly a mantra coming from your lips. 

Mingi kept his assault on your clit for a while, your high building so fast. Until his tongue slid from your clit to your entrance, his tip started to fuck your hole, his nose hitting your clit deliciously. Everything too much for you. And you snapped, a high moan leaving your lips as your legs trembled on top of his shoulders. 

But he didn’t stop, no, he kept going. He drank up all your juices before bringing his fingers to join the fun. His index finger easily entering you, your walls hugging the finger deliciously, like a vice. He started to move it, slow at first, and speeding with time. Soon he added a second one, the stretch feeling so good you almost didn’t handle it. Mingi started to fuck you with his finger, his mouth back to your clit. His fingers curling deliciously, hitting that oh so sweet spot that was making you see stars. 

It didn’t take long enough for your second orgasm to hit you like a wave, your back arching, your eyes rolling and his name coming out of your mouth like a prayer, a promise. Again, he lapped at you nectar as if his life depended on it before you started to wriggle of overstimulation. 

He was satisfied, you were already a mess underneath him and he didn’t even had the chance to fuck you, his pride and ego swelling. The man hovered over your body again, his hand gently caressing your face, fixing the hairs that had stuck to your sweaty face. 

“Are you okay, my dear?” you slowly nodded. “Do you think you can keep going?” you pulled him for a kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. 

“Make me yours, Mingi” the words seemed to waken up something darker inside him, something feral, as he went back to kiss you, teeth clashing, tongues fighting, the weight of his body on top of yours, but you couldn’t care less. 

You lowered your hand to the waistband of his pants, fumbling to try to open while still kissing, to no success. He lifted from the bed and took his own pants and underwear in one go, his member springing free from its confines. Your eyes widened at the size, but your walls squeezed onto nothing of excitement. You bit your lips, looking at it, thinking about the weight of it on your tongue. 

“You can taste it another day, my dear, today I’m too eager to be inside you” as if he could see right through you, he spoke, walking slowly towards you, like a hunter to its prey.

With your legs open, you welcomed him back to where he was on top of your body, his new home. He kissed you again, slowly, deeply, savouring you. Gently he started to enter you, just his tip stretching you deliciously, a crooked moan leaving your lips while a low growl left his. He knew he wouldn’t last long if your walls hugged him like that. Slowly he moved, entering more, shushing you, kissing all over your face to try to soothe the pain. 

Mingi was so gentle, caring, making sure you were okay all the time, waiting for you to give him the green light to move until he bottomed all, his whole length inside of you. Your both dreams coming true. He took more time for you to get used to the size and girth, to the feeling of being so full.

“Mo-move” your voice above a whisper, you were far gone, your mind hazy with lust and pleasure and him. 

He did as you asked, moving slowly, taking a little before putting back. Your mouth hanging open, no sound coming out of it. Little by little he started to take more and more before putting back in, his hips moving slow but deep, a delicious addicting dance.

The man started to move faster after a while, your body moving up and down with the strength he’d move. You wouldn’t last longer, your walls starting to squeeze around him more viciously, more strongly. Your moans louder, you weren’t holding anymore.

“Mingi! Make me yours” you managed to say between moans. “Mark me yours” a rush of adrenaline going through both of your bodies. 

Mingi felt like he was dreaming and he was hearing things.

“Don’t play with me, flower. Don’t make promises you can’t keep” he warned, his voice octaves deeper than usual.

“I’m not playing- God!” he gave a rather strong thrust. “Please, Mingi, I’m all yours, I wanna be yours forever” you pulled his face closer to yours so you could look right in his eyes. “Please” you pleaded like your life depended on it.

Mingi felt his dick twitch inside of you, the way your broken innocent eyes were looking at him with intent. You meant it. You wanted it. And he knew that. He could feel that. He could see through your eyes. He was about to break you forever, to fulfill his filthiest desires. 

His hand held your face, his lips planting a sweet kiss over your lips, his nose rubbing over yours. His mouth moved to the junction where your neck and shoulder met and left a few butterfly kisses there before looking at you again. You nodded, a smile dancing in your worn out face.

The man let his fangs out, and rubbed them over the sweet spot, he could smell your anticipation, your adrenaline, your need for him. And the he bit. The fangs sinking down the soft plush skin as a moan escaped your lips, the sensation of his dick fucking you and the bite stinging your body was something you couldn’t describe. You felt so full, so relieved, so happy, hazy, dizzy. 

He felt his dick twitch and he knew he would come, all the feeling of being complete was too much for him. He sucked a bit of your blood to seal the pact before licking the wound close. His hips haltering their movement as he came, his white ropes of cum filling you up to the brim, some of it spilling out as he kept fucking you until you came too, your walls squeezing him inside of you. 

Mingi laid by your side and brought you to nestle on his chest, your whole body molten, weak, fragile, happy, full, complete. Your breathings erratic from the action. He started to mindlessly play with your hair, while you draw abstract shapes on his chest. 

It took a while for you to get back to a seemingly normal state. Mingi left the room and suddenly you felt lonely, cold. But soon he was back with a damp cloth, a water bottle and another bottle of the pinkish drink from earlier. He cleaned you gently, taking care to not be too harsh to your delicate parts, the damp cloth cooling down your body temperature. You drank a bit of the water before drinking the juice, you definitely needed your energy back. 

The man discarded the cloth, the dirty sheet and got back at your side. 

“Fuck” you exclaimed. “I guess I’m yours now”

“Are you regretting it?” you denied.

“Not at all, I love being yours” you kissed his lips before nesting yourself in his chest again, a yawn leaving your lips.

“Rest, little flower, you need” he kissed the top of your head and with that you fell asleep.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The beep of your wristwatch and the bell of the door rang at the same time, announcing it was 3 pm and your regular customer was right on time. Again. 

Mingi entered the door and you smiled widely upon seeing him. He waved at you and came to the counter, landing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“How can I serve you today, sir?” you said with a smile.

“How about… my girlfriend’s juice?” he provoked, his voice low, a smirk on his lips.

“You guys are utterly disgusting, you know that?” Jaemin blurted, a disgusted face on before leaving to clean some tables.

“Good thing he doesn’t know I’m talking about your blood” you hit his arm as he laughed and you accompanied him. 

Masterlist Requests

[msmk11]

Hello!

I would like to attend the party! Could I request 🍾 with prompt 13: sleeping in S/O shoulder, with Sirius, please!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy the party!

Omg I’m obsessed with this ask! Love, love, love! Hope it lives up to your standards <3

Boyfriends Make the Best Pillows

Sirius Black x gn!reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: mention of alcohol? Sickeningly sweet fluff

Summary: You’re really, really tired, and your boyfriend is looking like a really nice pillow.

Thanks for coming to the party! Check out other things to do here!

You’d promised Sirius you’d go out tonight with him and his friends to the pub just around the corner from your shared flat. Now, however, you’re starting to regret that decision wholeheartedly. The day had been long. Not bad, so to speak, just…. well… your boss at the ministry was an idiot, and had had you running all over the entire building to meet with people and smooth the feathers he had ultimately ruffled.

All you really wanted to do was stay in with your boyfriend, change into one of his shirts and boxers, and order take out. Instead, when you’d walked in the door, Sirius was already dressed for the occasion, donning combat boots, a leather jacket and one of his favorite band tees.

The searing kiss he gave you didn’t help either, and had only made you melt into him, your tired bones seeking your lover’s embrace.

But you’d promised, and you couldn’t imagine breaking that promise. He’d try to hide his disappointment, but you’d know how he felt all the same. So, you’d trudged upstairs and changed, throwing on some going-out jeans and one of Sirius’ cooler shirts, so you could be at least sort of semi-comfy.

That brings you to now, tucked into a sticky corner booth, Sirius’ hand on your thigh as he tells a story animatedly to Remus, James, and Peter. You and Lily, who James brought along, have been chatting intermittently, but you can tell your best friend is just as tired as you. The beer you’ve been nursing isn’t helping your cause, its heat warming your insides and weighing down your weary limbs.

Your boyfriend must say something funny, because everyone at the table busts out laughing loudly. It causes you to jump, bringing you back to reality.

James wipes at his eyes, tears of laughter streaming down his face, “Merlin, Pads, that was brilliant. You’re brilliant! I wish I could’ve seen Malfoy’s face.”

You have no clue what they’re talking about, but you chuckle too, nodding along with the group.

“Another round of drinks, on me,” James offers, and the boys cheer in unison. Peter gets up to help him and Remus turns to Lily to ask her something. That leaves Sirius’ attention on you.

He beams down at you, his lovely gray eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness. They soften when they catch your gaze and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your hairline. Your eyes flutter shut.

“You having fun, lovely?” Sirius murmurs into your ear, nudging his nose against your cheek.

His hot breath sends shivers down your spine but you nod, “yeah baby, I am.”

He kisses behind your ear, “you sure? You’ve been awfully quiet all night.”

You squeeze his bicep reassuringly, “I promise. I’m just tired. Had a long day at work.”

Your boyfriend pouts at you, brows creasing in worry, “awe darling, I’m sorry. Is that bastard of a boss mistreating you again? I swear I’ll-“

You laugh softly and cut him off with a quick peck to the lips, “he was just being an idiot, nothing I can’t handle.”

Still, Sirius notices the exhaustion in your gaze, and he traces his thumbs over the shadows under your eyes, “you do look tired, lovely. Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve stayed home.”

You shake your head insistently, “you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. I know you don’t see the boys as often as you’d like, and I wasn’t gonna let my tiredness ruin that.”

A part of you expects him to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just places a long, lingering kiss to your forehead, deep affection shining in his eyes, “thank you, my love. I’ll pamper you all day tomorrow to make up for it.”

He kisses you softly on the lips and you melt into him, his strong arm tucking you into his side further.

James returns with the drinks and you accept yours gratefully, even though you don’t really want it.

Their banter and loud laughter continues while you sip on your drink quietly, interjecting with occasional thoughts so no one feels as if you’re entirely ignoring them. But, sooner rather than later, the exhaustion and booze get to you. Your head sinks onto Sirius’ shoulder, which looks extra comfortable right now, and your eyes flutter shut as you’re lulled into a light sleep.

No one notices right away that you’ve fallen asleep. It’s only about ten minutes later when Peter’s eyes shift to ask you a question that he sees the state you’re in. A smirk grows on his face and he nods to Sirius. Your boyfriend looks down at you and his gray eyes soften into a warm, gooey puddle. He kisses the top of your head and smiles, “I think that’s my cue, lads.”

Remus snorts, but his amusement and teasing is all fond, “Oi, Pads, you’ve become whipped. You used to never go home until it was at least past 2am. Now, it’s not yet half past eleven and you’re packing up.”

Sirius knows he’s whipped, and he’s not in the least bit ashamed. You’ve softened him, sure, and he’s much better because of it. He strokes your hair, gently nudging you awake.

Your sleepy eyes blink up at him and his heart melts, “hi, lovely. You fell asleep. Let’s get you home, okay?”

You nod, cheek rubbing up and down his leather jacket as you do, “okay.”

He gets up and coaxes you out of the warm corner, his friends sharing knowing glances as they watch their most emotionally-stunted friend fawn over you so lovingly. Sirius slips his jacket over your shoulders and puts his arm around your waist. Your boyfriend exchanges goodbyes for the both of you and then guides you off into the night.

It’s a little chilly out and you whine, cuddling closer to Sirius.

He chuckles and squeezes you tighter, “we’ll be home so soon lovely, and you can go straight to bed.”

All you can do is nod, and the rest of the walk is silent until you reach your flat and Sirius unlocks the door. He guides you to bed, hands finding a firm grip on your waist as he sits you down and unties your shoes. Your pants are the next to go and he places soft kisses on both your knees, making you smile sleepily. He pulls off your (his) shirt and slips on your sleep shirt.

Sirius pats your hip, “there you go, baby, all ready for bed.”

It’s the best news you’ve heard all night, and you’re so grateful to be horizontal. Sirius takes off his own clothes and turns off the light, spooning you from behind. He kisses your hairline and strokes soothing patterns across your bare arm.

You’re already half asleep, but you do manage to slur one thing, “sorry I ruined your evening.”

His heart twinges and he tugs you closer, “shhh sweetheart, you didn’t ruin anything. Any night with you is a perfect one. Get some rest now, I love you.”

And you drift off instantly.

[bleufu1]

FRESH SWEETENER

“You came. Ain’t expect you ta’ actually show up.”

“Well ya’ asked didn’t you?”

mini taglist — @kxllanxtdoor @marley1773 @motheroffae @yourcoralansene @coldeforprez @twistedsistas-stuff @heyyimmisunderstood @spatterpus @bendoverboo18 @pinkpantheris

SYNOPSIS: The boys continue to set up for tonight’s joint — Sugar get an’ unexpected invite.

maybe wordless | sammie attempts at flirting ofc | mature jokes/speeches | stack being nosey again | smidge of jealous Sammie. |

The plan was to start preparing for the party tonight. It was saturday, an’ everyone was off — so it’s gon’ be packed. Smoke made some plans with everybody, tellin em’ what they jobs was gon’ be when the party started. He told Stack he in charge of keeping the party going, Annie was on food, Slim on music an’ Sammie singing whenever the chance presents itself. No if and’s or buts.

“What if i gotta piss? What then huh?” Stacks tone laced in play.

“I’ll make you piss yo’ pants you keep on’ playin’.” Smoke backhands Stack.

Stack rubs the back of his neck laughing still. Walkin’ over to Bo Chow, discussing how they gon’ renovate the juke joint for tonight. At first the plan was to change where the food was gon’ be and make room for coats and what-not. But Annie had other ideas since the food section was closer to the windows which means better ventilation. This meant they had to find somewhere else to put the coats.

Bo chow decided to help with getting some racks for the coats and maybe more stuff for food. Grace had somebody for the coat racks. Stack had to find more musicians for the joint, said they needed sum’n bigger than what they had. Smoke ain’t agree at first but seein’ how everybody nodded they head, he was outta the option.

Slim was too busy makin’ sure the alcohol coming in was up to date and good enough for the joint. Being the drinker he was of course he’d know. Slim said sum’n bout needing more glasses for more people. Sum’n told Smoke it won’t bout’ no other people.

Sammie got told he had to sing at the juke. not other options.

Ain’t like he was complaining either. Sammie loved singin’. Was the one thing that made him, him. They told him he needed to sing at least once every night. Don’t matter what it was long as he was singin’ it. While Smoke handled the actual business, Stack took Sammie out near the train to find more low ground musicians. Worked for finding slim so same should work now.

Stack and Sammie walked around. They found a violinist, bass player an’ someone for saxophone. Stack said they was on a role. Wanted to test they luck an’ see if they could find another singer. Had to be someone round’ here with a voice as strong as Sammie’s.

They turned a corner.

Then another.

Sammie spotted her first. In red high heels an’ a white dress. Stack yelled out to her, catching her attention.

“Well well, nice to see ya’ again.”

Sugar turned to the sound. When she seen em’ a smile creeped up on her face. Her eyes bounced from Stack to Sammie, an’ they stayed there. Shit — if someone told her that his fine ass was here, she would’ve wore a better dress.

“Hello to you too, Stack — an’ you too Preacher Boy.”

Sammie tipped his hat to her. Stack made conversation with Sugar. Try’n to convince her to sing at the joint. Told her she’d get free food and drinks for helping — and he’d pay her too. While the two negotiated, Sammie day dreamed. He zoned out on her face. She sure looked older, last time he’d seen her she looked younger than her age.

Her eyes still captivating, smile still shined like diamonds. He wanted to think of how much her body changed, but that’d only lead to his mind going places it ain’t need ta’ be.

Sammie came out of it, listening to Stacks proposal. Seemed like Sugar wasn’t havin’ none.

“C’mon — You’ll have fun for once girl.”

Sugar looked him up an’ down. He gazed shifted to Sammie, holdin’ his eyes in hers again. It’s almost as if she wanted to see if he wanted her there rather than Stack inviting her for profit. By the way he was staring back — she knew her answer. Sugar eventually came round’ an’ agreed to show up tonight. Stack let out a hoot an’ walked off to the crowd forming down the street.

Sugar an’ Sammie stood, comfortable silence followed. Ain’t none of em’ had to talk, their mutual presence was enough.

Till sammie opened his yapper.

“So ya’ actually comin’ — or you jus’ said yes outta’ pressure?”

“Ain’t nobody pressuring me baby, believe that.”

“By the way you was starin’ thought I was the culprit.”

“Oh — ain’t ya’ cute.”

With that Sugar walked off, not without givin’ Sammie a small squeeze on his shoulder. She made her way down the opposite side of the street where her sisters shop was. Sammie watched as she walked off — damn.

Stacks footsteps were heard, and so was his voice before ya’ could even see em’.

“Where her fast tail ass go so quick?”

“Down to er’ sisters. Best we leave her be.”

Stack sucked his teeth an’ tugged Sammie along. They had to go help set up for tonight anyways an’ Stack already found everyone he needed. Him an’ Sammie hopped in the car an’ drive off.

Sammie wondered if Sugar would actually show up, she had a keen tendency to say one thing an’ go back on it if she really ain’t wanna do it — at least that’s how he remembered it.

Pulling up to the joint Sammie an’ Stack hop out, Sammie rolls up his sleeves an’ Stack walks in just ready to annoy Smoke with his nonsense. It was gin’ be a long couple hours.

The juke was hot. People dancin’ an’ singin’ along to the tunes. The musicians Stack found was playin’ the hearts out. Cornbread an’ another fella was watching the door — keepin’ the weirdos out, Cornbread stopped his duty a couple times to harass folks for money he gave em’.

It was a sight to see. The men in the back playing cards — one of em’ almost jumped over the table cause he lost his round an’ his money. Some of the ladies decided to pitch in with the food, Helpin’ Annie at the bar an’ what not. Some couples was on the dance floor, slow dancin’ to the music while others stood in the corner.

One of the best sights Sammie seen.

Sammie leaned on one of the wooden pillars in the place. Watching the scene unfolding in front of him. Smoke told em’ he ain’t have to sing tonight since they had brought enough music with em’ for the day. Next saturday though, he told em.’ Not like Sammie was complaining, smooth night without anything to do for once.

Something told Sammie to look beside him.

He did. An’ there she was.

He dress was long but draped down low in the back. She had on short heels, simple pearl necklace an’ earrings but damn it made her look good. Sammie smirked to himself as she walked in. Some people whispered, some heads turned. But she wont focused on them.

She was looking for him.

At him, actually.

Sugar made her way over to Sammie, opening her arms to invite him into a hug. Sammie took it, squeezing her tight an’ swaying side to side. He ain’t wanna let go — but sadly she did.

Sammie took a minute to take all of her in. She really is the most beautiful thing he’s seen.

“Ya’ really came — ain’t expect you to actually show.”

“Well ya’ asked did you?”

“Don’t member’ that.”

“You did with ya’ eyes.”

They stood staring at each other. Not in awkwardness or embarrassment. Just peace, as if nobody else was there but them.

“Well i’m glad you showed, hope ya’ have a good time.”

Just as Sugar was gon’ respond she got called over by Annie. Both of em’ turned the head, Sugar gave Sammie a sorry smile as she walked over to Annie to talk. Sammie turned back an’ seen Slim shaking his head at him. Sammie shoved him slightly but that only made Slim cackle out more.

Hopefully he get the chance to talk to her again. Pretty sure she singin’ tonight too. Sammie took a deep breath before walkin’ off. He walked towards Smoke an’ Stack, just tryna’ be nosey.

Apparently stack fucked up some man’s order at the bar, being funny when ain’t shit to laugh about.

Man, it’s gon’ be a long night.

——————————————————————————

🫶 — MB YALL IK TS TOOK ME FOREVER, swea i ain’t forget bout yall. Anyways hope yall like it MWAHHH 😼

[discountlittlebro]

His hips ached, big hands were wrapped around them, calloused fingers pressing into the bone as if daring them to break under his touch. Another thrust, more smoke swirling in the air making it thick and heavy to breathe in. His hands grasp at the bathroom sink, begging that the utility doesn’t snap from the wall and send them both to the ground. One of the hands leaves his hips, moved to sit overtop of his hand in an attempt at comfort, of connection. Chipped black nail polish blurs in his vision, the marble sink is digging into his ribs and it hurts, but not as bad as being empty. He’s not this type of boy, he doesn’t come to places like this or hangout with guys like this…but this is his brother.

The brother he didn’t know he had but always wanted. With messy hair and piercings, crooked teeth and stubble that rubs against the back of his neck. Deep grunts and deep thrusts. He finally got his attention.

When he first showed up in this dingy little club, flinching at the blaring lights and pounding music, he wasn’t sure he would ever find the man he was looking for. All he had was a picture, and it was blurry at best. But when he saw him he knew. He was sitting in a booth, some blonde twink sucking on his neck and rubbing his cock through a pair of jeans that were way too tight for him.

Getting to him was near impossible, men with tattoos and big muscles stepping infront of him, as if the the mouse of a boy trying to get through was any type of threat. Fortunately for him, he was his brothers type. The blonde made a noise when his brother shoved him off his lap, more interested in the stranger who was over dressed for a club. He buys him a drink, tells him to relax and he’s trying but it’s hard to remember this is older brother when his hand feels so good on his thigh.

“So…what’s got someone like you looking for someone like me?”

The typical answers swirl around in his head. Someone who wants to piss off their daddy, or someone sent in to spy. Either way, he can have a little fun with em. He’s never had a problem mixing bussiness and pleasure. It’s when his teeth are scraping against the boys throat that he finally speaks.

“You’re my brother. My mom remarried, and you were about eight, I think. She gave you away when she had me. But I…I wanted to know you.”

His older brother is dragging him away from the flashing lights and blaring music, away from the sweaty bodies grinding on the dance floor. He’s dragging back to the alley, where he tosses him down.

“Don’t come back here.”

But he does. He comes back night after night, hoping his brother will change his mind. He’s about to give up, about to move on when somebody on the dance floor grabs him and tries to get him out of his sweater. This isn’t his scene, but fuck he’s had a few drinks and he’s depressed, he lets this stranger feel him up. Closes his eyes and lets the music pound in his ears and chest and the alcohol wash away his sorrows. He’s about to say something when the stranger grabs his ass, but he doesn’t get to.

The dude is punched square in the teeth. And his older brother is seething as he drags him to the bathroom.

“Do you know what that asshole wanted from you? Were you going to let him keep touching you? Fucking disgusting.”

“What’s it to you? You don’t want me.” He slurs, tired and dazed and still reeling from the adrenaline. The youngest puts his hands on the sink, trying to calm his nerves. “I just wanted to know what you were like…”

“What I’m like? Is violent. I didn’t get sent away because there was a new baby. I got sent away because you were my baby. You think I don’t know anything about you but fuck I know too much. I let myself know everything, except what you looked like and you had to come stumbling in here! Looking for me! And you still expect me to have self control?”

He’s not making any sense. Or maybe the alcohol is making everything not make sense.

“Whateverrrr! Youuu threw me out, I dunno why I keep coming back! You clearly don’t want me here.” And yeah he’s fucking sloshed. Swaying in the bathroom mirror.

“You’re a fucking idiot. For all those good grades and awards you’re pretty fuckin dense huh?”

Wait…he didn’t tell him about any of that.

“What’re you talking about? Your baby?” He rolls his eyes, this guy is too young to be his dad is that’s what he’s thinking. It isn’t until he’s being slammed into the wall, his brothers hand around his throat that he starts to feel himself sober up.

“You were mine. Yeah that bitch gave birth to you and that douchebag helped make you, but you were mine. I used to throw a fit if your bottle was too hot, if you were sick, you were born for me. The moment you came out you were mine. And that made me dangerous. I know everything about you, but I’ve been keeping my distance. I couldn’t let myself know what you looked like, wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tearing you off the street and locking you away from everyone.” Little brothers pulse drums under his brothers thumb, realization flooding him and overwhelming his senses. He doesn’t hate him, he loves him, more than he should.

“I’d let you.” It slips out, alittle eager. “I’d let you. You weren’t there you don’t know what they were like my entire life. I used to fantasize about somebody stealing me away, would leave my window open. You never came.”

[ohbueckers]

YOU WANNA TALK TERMS AND CONDITIONS?

uconn super senior paige bueckers has her eyes on one thing: a national championship. after a long road back from injury and a season of almosts, she’s determined to block out anything that might knock her focus, especially the secret she’s been keeping since junior year. nevaeh ‘nevi’ batista, co captain of the cheer squad and completely off limits, was never supposed to be more than a passing distraction. but now, with everything on the line and no one knowing they even know each other, paige and nevi are walking a tightrope between control and collapse, trying not to fall for something that was never supposed to matter in the first place.

FINE—

authors note. i have a couple of updates for my supporters and donors… they’re finally here after me tweaking the plot 700 times! updates will probably be inconsistent like always, but i will have a lot more free time after exams end. i’m thinking of making an actual tag list for this (surprise, surprise) so just let me know if you wanna be added. missing uconn paige like a sad baby rn so this was only right. dallas p up next doe!

includes. switch of point of views. sexual content, 18+. secret relationship / situationship, mentions of injury, emotional repression, internalized pressure / performance anxiety, toxic tendencies, daddy issues, mentions of sexuality, angst, intoxication, lots of cheer squad names (not really important), the sharing of intimate content, subtle manipulation, etc. not real interpretations of paige or the uconn wbb team (or geno), fair warning that you’ll probably hate nevi sometimes, but she’s pretty so she gets a pass!

YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE ME.

THAT’S THE ONLY WAY THIS WORKS.

playlist. songs i associate heavily with paige and nevi! you’ll see why, sooner or later…

tell your friends, the weeknd. “last year, i did all the politickin,’ this year i’ma focus on the vision.”

slut! (taylor’s version) (from the vault), taylor swift. “i said it might blow up in your pretty face, i’m not saying do it anyway, but you’re going to.”

GREEDY, partynextdoor drake. “this is not conventional, this is not traditional, this is unprofessional, but these are my confessions though.”

loose, daniel caesar. “if you ever start to wonder why all the rain and all the thunder follows her around, you better cut that girl loose. what are you, a coward?”

faking it, calvin harris kehlani lil yachty funk wav. “why you, why you, say let go if you’re still holding it? just a little bit better at faking it than me, baby.”

connect, drake. “i remember when my schedule was as flexible as she is, she call me and tell me be here before the sun up, i be dressed before we hung up.”

bad religion, frank ocean. “if it brings me to my knees… it’s a bad religion.”

drinking and driving, jhene aiko. “so i need you tell me that you love me some more, put your hands on my body as my clothes hit the floor.”

none of ur friends business, ginuwine. “but i don’t give a damn, long as it’s me you trust, ‘cause i can’t get down with your clique.”

don’t matter to me, drake. “you wanted me to gon’ put my hands on you just to show you i love you. you know i can’t jeopardize both our reputations.”

goodnight n go, ariana grande. “it’s bad enough we get along so well, just say goodnight and go.”

& more tba!

chapters. all t&c chapters will be linked here, from start to finish!

teaser, not a prologue.

one. don’t look too long.

two. reintroductions are a cruel sport.

three. it’s purple.

& more tba!

[takusan-no-ai]

Speed Dating: One-O-One

PAIRING: Zhu x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: Zhu’s parents set her up for a speed dating program.

“Find your one true love,” Zhu read aloud, looking down at the flyer which was placed in her back pocket. Her parents had snuck it on her the last time she visited them. She continued reading it next to her locker at work, waiting for the seconds to pass so she could clock in.

Yes, Zhu went to work earlier than usual today. Her mind kept racing and so she slept little that night. With a huff she sat down at her desk, espresso in hand; she needed something to help her get through the day. And to help keep her mind from wandering to that flyer.

“Someone seems preoccupied by her own thoughts.” Qingyi said, having appeared behind Zhu. She was drinking a small cup of hot water, the smile on her face growing by the seconds. Qingyi pulled up a chair and sat down next to Zhu, relaxing as she sipped her water.

Zhu looked at her mentor before sighing again. “It’s my parents: they want me to go to a speed dating event. I love them, but they’re so…a lot sometimes.” She vented to her. Qingyi nodded, listening attentively.

“So, will you go?”

“I guess.”

“Why does the action seem to make you so anxious, Zhu?” Qingyi asked. Zhu finished her espresso and rummaged through her work files. “Zhu,” Qingyi called out to her again, “don’t try to hide in your work. You’ll only be putting off the inevitable.”

“I know, I know.” She slumped over. “I…just don’t want to be in a relationship right now. But I want my family to know that I am trying to be available. There’s just…,” she trailed off.

“Always something else that takes importance over romance.” Qingyi finished. Zhu nodded. Qingyi sat up, now done with her water. She cleaned up the area and gave Zhu a reassuring pat on the back.

As she opened the office door, Qingyi turned back to give her friend one last piece of advice. “Even if you don’t want a boyfriend, all you have to do is show up, right? Tell them it didn’t work out afterwards. No harm, no foul.”

Zhu watched as her coworkers figure faded away, a new look of determination on her face. “Just go and have fun.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

…

…

It wasn’t going well. Zhu had never dolled herself up like this. Not since she was a little girl going on a family trip. When she told her mom and dad the news they were practically jumping over the moon. They dressed her up, did her makeup, everything. And when she finally got there Zhu had to force herself to go through the front door.

There were some dressed like her. But most wore casual clothing. She grimaced. “I’m like a sore thumb in a greenhouse.” Zhu twiddled her fingers, not wanting to attract too much attention. Thats when her stomach made itself known.

“…!?”

Thankfully nobody heard it. And then that enticing smell made its way to her. Zhu looked towards the buffet table, and there she saw it: grilled tomatoes topped with some basil and ranch dressing on the side. She could feel her mouth watering.

But only some people went to the table. “If I go there now they might think I’m…,” she didn’t want to finish the embarrassing thought, now feeling self conscious. So she waits it out with a pained expression on her face, hand subtly caressing her stomach as she fought the hunger pains.

And then he came. A young man wearing a pub sec uniform. He walked towards her with a small plate of that tomato dish in hand, smiling at her. The food certainly made her happy, but his uniform was already calming her nerves; talking to someone she worked with felt achievable. Much easier than mingling with a complete stranger.

“Here you go, Miss.” He handed her the plate and escorted Zhu towards a small table further off from the louder commotion. “You seemed hungry, eyeing that tomato like it would run away.” He teased. She blushed, trying not to quickly scarf down the meal. “But really, if you’re that hungry there’s nothing wrong with just grabbing a plate.”

His reassurance was comforting. And his presence so relaxing in a familiar way. Maybe it was just the uniform. “Thanks. I just didn’t want people to think I was gluttonous.” She confided to him.

“I mean if you’re eating for two it makes sense you would be that hungry.” He said casually, drinking his glass of water.

“Haha, yeah…wait what?” Zhu stared at him with wide eyes. She turned away blushing.

“Huh? Did I say something wrong?”

“Yes. I’m not ‘eating for two’.” Zhu corrected. The young man coughed into his hand, now turning away also. Zhu snuck a glance at him, and she could see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Sorry, you were rubbing and holding your stomach. It just looked like that to me, sorry. Not that I thought your stomach looked fat or anything like that because you’re not. You’re really pretty! Uh, not that you’d be ugly while pregnant; I think all pregnant women look beautiful! Wait, now that just sounds creepy.” He rambled on, continuing to dig himself further into a grave.

Zhu giggled at first. Now she was holding back from cackling. “You—ha! You’re so silly!” She was fighting back the tears. All the while the man scratched his neck, everything starting to feel too warm.

“Hey,” Zhu started, grasping his hand softly, “I’m having a lot of fun talking to you, but this place is a little too ‘formal’ for my taste.”

He smiled. “Wanna ditch and go somewhere more relaxing? Waterfall Soup is around the corner.” He offered. Zhu nodded, grabbing her belongings. That’s when it hit her.

“My name is Zhu. What’s yours?”

“(Y/N), reporting for duty, Ma’am!” He jested.

“‘Ma’am?’ I’m too young to be a Ma’am!” She joked back.

- Fin

[gigiii1sblog]

KISS ME LIKE A SECRET 002

Warnings: mature content, cheating, fluff, sexual content, 2 year age gap, 18 & 20 and more

Chapter two: The next morning

The morning sun poured through the windows, but the heat in the room wasn’t from the light—it was from everything left unsaid.

Y/N:

I hadn’t expected Josh to leave so early no goodbye, no kiss, just an empty bed and the quiet reminder that maybe he didn’t want to be around this morning.

I stared at the ceiling, the night’s memories swirling in my head. Mostly Chris, the way he looked at me by the fire, the way it felt like he was seeing me for the first time, not just as Nate’s little sister.

That thought twisted in my chest.

The knock at the door startled me. Before I could answer, Chris was there, leaning in the doorway like he owned the space, but with something guarded behind his eyes.

“You up?” His voice was casual, but the edge was sharp.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He stepped inside, eyes flicking around the room before settling on me.

“Josh left early,” he said, like a statement, not a question.

I shrugged, trying to stay calm.

“Figures.” His gaze darkened. “Guy seemed like he didn’t belong here.”

My heart skipped. Was that jealousy? Or something else?

Chris took a step closer, and the space between us shrank, charged and electric.

“You don’t have to put up with that,” he said, voice low. “Not here. Not with me.”

I swallowed hard, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting to lean in.

“I’m not… that’s not what this is,” I said, but even to my own ears, it sounded weak.

He smirked, the cocky grin I remembered from lacrosse games, but now it felt like a challenge.

“Yeah? Then why does it feel like I’m the one fighting for you?”

⸻

CHRIS:

Y/N looked different now, older, sharper, and suddenly, not just Nate’s sister but someone worth noticing.

Josh leaving early wasn’t a surprise. That guy didn’t fit here. And now, I felt something new stirring, like a rivalry I hadn’t expected but was ready to own.

I knocked, then slid inside without waiting for an invite.

She was tense, like she wanted me to leave but didn’t want me to go.

“Josh took off early,” I said, keeping my voice even, but inside, I was burning.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding mine.

I stepped closer, feeling the heat between us, the unspoken battle lines.

“You don’t have to stick around with someone who doesn’t see you,” I told her. “Not when I’m here.”

Her breath caught. She tried to brush it off, but I saw it, the flicker of something real.

“I’m not trying to compete,” she said, but it wasn’t convincing.

I grinned, that smirk that made me dangerous. “Maybe you don’t have to. Maybe I just want to win.”

The space between us crackled, and for the first time, I wondered if this rivalry was about more than just proving something.

The Party:

Y/N:

I hadn’t meant to dress for him.

I told myself that when I slipped on the fitted black dress, the one that clung in all the right places and dipped just enough at the chest. It was for me. For confidence. For fun. Not for Chris.

Not for the boy who used to shove me aside in video games and ruffle my hair like I was just some little kid trying to follow the big boys around.

But now, as I stepped into the kitchen to refill my drink, I felt the weight of his stare before I even saw him.

Chris was leaned back against the far wall, a red cup loose in his hand, eyes locked on me with that unreadable expression he wore too well. His gaze flicked down, slow, deliberate, taking in the dip of my neckline, the way the hem hit mid-thigh, the way I moved.

Like I knew he was watching.

And the worst part? I did.

I pretended not to notice, focused instead on the fridge, the ice, anything but the way my skin buzzed under his stare.

He wasn’t alone earlier. I’d watched girl after girl drift toward him like moths to a flame, fingers twirling their hair, eyes wide, giggles dripping with flirtation. He soaked it up, charming without effort. It made something sour twist in my chest.

Of course he was like this. Chris Sturniolo was every girl’s favorite mistake. Loud, cocky, built like a sin. Every girl melted under him and I hated that I wasn’t immune.

I had Josh.

But the way Chris looked at me now, like he was seeing me for the first time made all my well-built walls start to crack.

CHRIS:

She moved like she knew what she was doing.

I’d seen Y/N a million times before, messy ponytails, oversized hoodies, laughing too hard with Nate. But this? This was different.

That black dress hugged her like a secret, like she knew every set of eyes would follow her across the room especially mine.

And she wasn’t even trying.

She didn’t need to. Her confidence wasn’t loud like the other girls who kept touching my arm or leaning too close. Hers was quiet, lived-in. It didn’t beg to be seen it demanded it.

I knew I shouldn’t be looking. Not at her. Not like this.

She was Nate’s little sister.

But she wasn’t little anymore.

And the way she walked into the room like she owned it, like she didn’t give a single damn who was watching made it harder to remember why I ever looked away before.

I took a slow sip of my drink, forcing myself to play it cool.

But I could see the way her breath hitched when our eyes met. The way she pretended not to notice me, even though every part of her was aware I was watching.

We had a history. Not a romantic one — never. But there had always been something there, something I ignored. Something I buried because she was off limits.

And now?

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Y/N moved past me, fingers brushing the edge of the counter, slow and careless. Or maybe it wasn’t careless at all. Maybe she wanted me to notice.

I couldn’t stop myself.

“You always run when your boyfriend gets to clingy?” I asked, voice low.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes flicking up to mine. “Maybe I just needed a break from the noise.

I pushed off the wall, closing the space between us in two steps. “You’ve changed,” I said, letting my eyes scan her face, her mouth, the line of her collarbone. “Not just the way you look.”

She tried to smile. It faltered. “People grow up.”

“Not like that.”

She swallowed hard. “You never noticed before.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to.” I paused. “But now? I can’t stop.”

The silence between us grew tight, breathless.

Her voice cracked slightly. “You’re just bored.”

“No,” I said, stepping in so close I could smell her perfume — soft, sweet, maddening. “I just never saw you. Not like this.”

She shook her head, even as her eyes fluttered shut for a second too long. “You can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I have Josh,” she whispered.

I leaned in, mouth near her ear. “Then why do you keep looking at me like you don’t?”

That pulled something out of her. Her breath hitched, and I swear I felt it. Like the air between us changed — thick, hot, dangerous.

She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, and for a second, I thought she was going to say something—close the space, cross the line.

And maybe I would’ve let her.

But then—

The door creaked open hard.

“Yo—” Nate’s voice sliced through the moment.

We jumped apart like we’d been caught doing something illegal.

I backed off, grabbed a beer I didn’t even want, pretending like nothing happened. Y/N darted for the hallway, her face flushed, hands shaking.

Nate’s eyes flicked between us, skeptical, but he didn’t say anything.

The moment was over.

But the fire it lit? That was just getting started.

Later That Night:

Y/N:

Back home, my dress lay in a heap on my bedroom floor, and my phone burned in my hand like it knew something I didn’t. Josh had gone home early. I’d texted him goodnight. I told myself that was the right thing to do.

And yet, here I was, opening his contact instead.

Chris Sturniolo

[11:47 PM]

You always run away or was that just for me?

My heart jumped.

I stared at the message, thumbs hovering, unsure if replying was the worst idea or the only one that would let me sleep tonight.

[11:49 PM]

You’re the one who looked like you saw a ghost when Nate walked in.

A bubble popped up instantly.

Chris Sturniolo

[11:49 PM]

Nah. Ghosts don’t wear dresses like that.

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach flipped anyway.

[11:50 PM]

Don’t do that.

Chris Sturniolo

[11:50 PM]

Do what?

[11:50 PM]

Make this something it’s not.

The typing bubble disappeared.

Good. I shouldn’t have answered at all.

But then—

Chris Sturniolo

[11:54 PM]

You’re right. It’s not something.

That was everything.

My throat tightened. I didn’t respond right away, fingers curled around my phone, heart pacing like I’d just sprinted. There it was, the thing we weren’t allowed to say, sitting in my iMessages like a dare.

CHRIS:

I shouldn’t have texted her.

She had a boyfriend. She was Nate’s sister. She was Y/N. She is eighteen.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me tonight, like I was a problem she couldn’t solve, like she hated how much i noticed her now. And I hated how much I needed her to notice. Every other girl tonight blurred together. She was the only thing I remembered.

When she didn’t text back, I tossed my phone aside, pissed at myself. What did I think would happen? That she’d suddenly forget Josh? That we’d joke about almost getting caught by Nate like it was nothing?

I ran a hand through my hair and laid back on her couch, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the way her breath caught when I leaned in. the heat of her skin, the look in her eyes.

My phone buzzed.

Y/N [11:59 PM]

I don’t know what this is.

But it’s not fair.

I stared at it for a second, something tugging at my chest.

[12:01 AM]

No, it’s not.

But it’s real.

Y/N:

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I didn’t say anything at all.

Because he was right. And that was the part that scared me most.

⸻

The house was quiet

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder than they should be.

Outside my window, cicadas hummed into the night, and the leftover buzz from the party still pulsed in my blood, even though it had ended hours ago. I rolled onto my side, the dull glow from my phone screen still lighting up the space beside me.

Chris’s last message sat there, taunting me.

“But it’s real.”

My stomach twisted.

God, he shouldn’t have said that.

Because now that he had, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I couldn’t pretend tonight was just a weird moment or a party fluke or some twisted nostalgia.

I felt it when he looked at me. When he leaned in like he knew every part of me, the old, awkward kid who followed him around like a shadow, and the girl I’d become, the one he suddenly couldn’t ignore.

I never thought I’d matter to Chris. I was always just the annoying sister. Someone to ruffle hair and shove out of rooms. A background character to his loud, golden life.

And now?

Now I couldn’t breathe around him.

Now he was all sharp smiles and slow glances, and girls who melted at his feet and the worst part was, I was melting too.

I had Josh.

I was supposed to be happy.

I stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding as the realization hit me in full force.

This summer was going to be hell.

The Next Morning:

Y/N:

I didn’t expect to see him already awake.

The plan was simple: sneak downstairs, make coffee, avoid eye contact, pretend last night didn’t happen.

But there he was. Shirtless. Again.

Leaning against the fridge, sipping from a glass of orange juice like he wasn’t a walking complication.

I barely paused. Just enough to register him, to hate the way my stomach flipped before I kept walking.

His voice followed me like a hook.

“Morning, princess.”

I smirked, not looking at him. “You always this clingy after a little message?”

He chuckled, deep and lazy. “Nah. Just you.”

I turned to face him, leaning casually against the counter, crossing my arms.

“You flirt with everyone like that, or is it just your best friend’s little sister?”

His jaw twitched barely, but I saw it. Good.

He took a slow step closer. “You’re not a little anything anymore, Y/N.”

“No shit,” I said sweetly, letting my eyes rake over him once before looking back up through my lashes. “You just figured that out?”

He was in front of me in three steps.

I didn’t move.

I should’ve. But I didn’t.

His hand came down rough, hot, settling low on my waist. Possessive.

The press of his palm against the curve of my side made my breath catch. Not that I’d ever admit it.

His other hand braced against the counter behind me, boxing me in.

I could feel the heat of his body without him even touching me fully. His face dipped down, lips dangerously close to my neck, close enough to feel the breath when he spoke.

“Keep teasing me,” he whispered. “See how far you get.”

A slow smile pulled at my lips. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

His grip on my waist tightened, not rough, but warning.

“I don’t make promises,” he murmured, voice like smoke. “Especially not to girls who pretend they don’t want this.”

I tilted my head, just slightly, my breath catching.

“Maybe I don’t.”

He exhaled through his nose, a laugh with no humor.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

My heart was pounding. My skin was burning. My fingers twitched at my sides like they wanted to grab his shirt, pull him closer, finish what we kept starting.

But I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And then—

Footsteps.

Voices.

Laughter from the hallway.

We both froze.

He stepped back a second before Matt walked in, ruffling his hair and reaching past us for cereal like he hadn’t just interrupted something that could’ve changed everything.

I didn’t look at Chris.

Not even when I felt his eyes on me.

Not even when my skin still felt the echo of his hand on my waist.

Because if I did…

I might let him win.

And I couldn’t afford to lose.

⸻

I sat down at the table like nothing had happened.

Like Chris’s hand hadn’t just been on my waist.

Like his breath hadn’t ghosted over my neck.

Like I wasn’t two seconds away from losing control.

Matt and Nick were already eating, bowls of cereal and half-toasted bagels scattered across the table. Nick was ranting about someone’s messy driving on the way back from the party, and Matt was nodding sleepily, eyes barely open behind his bangs.

Totally normal.

Totally chill.

I could be normal too. I had to be.

I kept my eyes on my bowl as I poured cereal, but I could feel him when he entered the air shifted. The kind of energy that filled a room and knew it filled a room.

Chris sat directly across from me.

Of course.

His leg brushed mine under the table when he stretched out, long and casual. Like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.

It was fire.

I shifted slightly, trying not to react, but he didn’t move.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, voice casual.

But I looked up and he wasn’t smiling casual.

He was watching me. Mouth curled just slightly, eyes dark with something only I recognized. He was playing a game. And I wasn’t about to fold.

“Like a baby,” I said flatly, spooning cereal into my mouth. “Didn’t even hear you sneak off with that girl from the party.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Wait—what girl?”

Chris’s eyes never left mine.

“There was no girl,” he said.

“Must’ve just imagined it, then.” I sipped my juice, keeping my expression neutral. “Could’ve sworn I saw you whispering to someone by the fire. ‘I’m real close, baby.”

Nick was grinning now, clearly entertained. “Damn, Y/N, you keeping tabs?”

I laughed lightly, fake as hell. “Just observant. You know me.”

Chris leaned forward, arms folded, elbows on the table. His knee pressed harder against mine under the wood, purposeful now. Deliberate.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m starting to realize just how observant you are.”

My stomach flipped.

I refused to blink first.

But it was Matt, sweet, oblivious Matt who broke the silence.

“Josh coming by today?”

The table quieted.

I swallowed. Hard.

Chris’s jaw flexed.

“Maybe,” I muttered. “He said he might.”

Chris pulled back slightly, eyes cold now. Like the mention of Josh snapped something back into place.

Or maybe cracked it.

“Right,” he said. “Can’t forget about your boyfriend.”

He said it like it was a joke. Like it tasted sour.

I smiled tight. “Nope. Can’t.”

Nick laughed like he was missing the entire subtext which he was. “God, this house is already tense and we’ve only been here a day.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

Chris stood, pushing back his chair. He looked at me once more before walking off like he had more to say but couldn’t trust himself to say it here.

His leg brushed mine one last time.

And when he was gone, I finally let myself exhale.

But the heat didn’t fade.

Because I knew this wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

Y/N:

I was curled up on the couch, phone pressed to my ear, pretending the pit in my stomach wasn’t real.

“Wait, so you don’t want me to come?” Josh sounded confused. A little hurt.

I twisted the blanket around my finger. “No, it’s not that. I just… today’s kinda hectic. The boys just got here, everyone’s still settling in. It’s chaos.”

A pause.

I could hear him breathing.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, “you’ve been off all morning.”

“No, I haven’t,” I lied, too fast.

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll come by tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Tomorrow. That’s perfect.”

When we hung up, I let my head fall back against the cushions. I knew exactly what I was doing. I just didn’t want to admit it.

I told myself it was easier this way. No fights. No awkward tension. No Chris giving Josh that look the one where he’s trying not to punch something.

But the truth?

I didn’t want Josh here because I didn’t want to see how I acted around him.

Didn’t want to compare it to how my skin burned when Chris so much as looked at me.

I was still sitting there, chewing my lip, when Nick walked in.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there, sipping his water, watching me with a weird look on his face.

I shifted. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“You and Josh good?”

My chest tightened. “Why?”

Nick sat across from me, elbow on the armrest, spinning his bracelet around his wrist. “You just seem… I don’t know. Different.”

I shrugged. “It’s weird having everyone here again.”

He tilted his head slightly, still watching me. “Chris being here weird?”

That made me freeze.

Just for a second.

But he noticed.

“Why would that be weird?” I asked too casually, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to my chest.

Nick didn’t answer right away.

He just smiled, soft and knowing. “You were so annoying about him when we were kids.”

I blinked. “What?”

“C’mon. You followed him around like a lost puppy when you were, like, eleven. Had that stupid charm bracelet with his initials—”

“I did not,” I cut in, face flaming.

He laughed. “You so did. It’s okay. It was cute. He never noticed.”

My stomach twisted. “Exactly.”

But Nick wasn’t teasing now.

He was quiet for a second, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“But he’s noticing now, isn’t he?”

I froze.

The air around us shifted, like the whole conversation teetered on the edge of something heavier.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Nick stood up, tossing his empty water bottle in the trash. “I’m not gonna say anything,” he said, like he already knew the answer. “But be careful, okay?”

I nodded slowly, throat tight.

“Careful with what?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Nick didn’t turn around as he walked out.

“With each other.”

guys I have part 3 ready lmk if you guys want me to post it today!

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze

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